Paradox
by ElleSmith
Summary: It is argued that time travel must be impossible, because it can result in a paradox. It is most likely that a time traveler going back to change something in his past will only end up causing the event somehow anyway, thus completing the causality loop. If you follow this rule, then maybe you can override the loop and change the past after all. In fact, Duo is counting on it.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes. Non-Gundam Wing related names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

**Title: **Paradox

**See my profile page for the COVER ART link. **

**Pairing: **1x2

**Summary:** It is argued that time travel must be impossible, because it can result in a paradox. Time is immutable. It is most likely that a time traveler going back to change something in his past will only end up causing the event somehow anyway, thus completing the causality loop. History cannot be changed because time will always find a way to heal itself. If you follow this rule, then maybe, just _maybe_, you can override the loop and change the past after all. In fact, Duo Maxwell is counting on it.

**Warnings:**

- 1x2/1+2*

- 1+R (there will be some kissing)

- Major character's death

- Time travel & Alternate timeline

- Slightly out of character behavior (within reason)

*** A note about the 1x2 in this story:** It is the main pairing in this story, but the plot does not center on Heero's and Duo's romantic relationship. This story is a study of how vast Duo's love towards Heero can truly be.

**Research Bibliography:**

Trickett, Penelope K., and Catherine McBride-Chang. "The developmental impact of different forms of child abuse and neglect." Developmental Review 15.3 (1995): 311-337.

Child Welfare Information Gateway. (2013). _Parenting a child who has experienced abuse or neglect_. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Children's Bureau. URL

"Time Travel", _Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia,_ Wikimedia Foundation, Inc., December 23 2014. URL

"Temporal Paradox", _Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia,_ Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.. December 17 2014. URL

"Retrocausality", _Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia_, Wikimedia Foundation, Inc., November 1 2014. URL

* **Full Disclosure:** the opening scene is inspired by and based on a scene from Grey's Anatomy s11e07.

**Author's Note I:**

This story is actually a bit silly, but only because the whole plot is based on the banal idea of time travelling which has been done to death in the fan fiction world. I don't know if this angle has been done before, because there's a lot of GW fan fiction I never got around reading, but I'm hoping that there's a shred of originality in what I wrote. Basically, it's a story about Heero dying and Duo going back in time trying save him... with a twist.

I enjoyed writing Paradox because it has been a long while since I last wrote about Heero and Duo as teenagers. I found myself thinking back a lot on my own adolescent years, trying to get into the proper mindset. It was fun. There's no way in Hell I would want to be fifteen again, but looking back with a sixteen years' worth of preservative was very insightful. Man, would I do things differently a second time around... and this is what this story is about, really: second chances.

I started writing Paradox years ago when struck with this silly idea, but couldn't make it work. Now suddenly, the pieces fell into place and I revised it completely, ending up with this story. It's not nearly as serious and deep as my previous work, just a fun piece of GW fan fiction, really. Please don't be mistaken, it's not a fluff piece or anything like that, but still fun, I promise. I just felt like screwing with the characters' lives a little before putting everything back into place...

I hope you'll enjoy the read and I would love to hear your thoughts on this, if you please, especially my portrayal of Heero, because it's really hard writing a plausible OOC.

Elle

**Author's Note II:** I am making an exception for this story by posting it before it's complete. I swore to never do this again (in fear I might never finish it), but what I fear more is that by the time I'm done writing there won't be anyone out there to read it. I have written 13 chapters so far and hopefully your R&R would help me see this story to completion. If not, then this fic will just have to be like most fan fiction stories - posted whenever inspiration strikes.

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Late at night, New York City, Manhattan. An ambulance stopped in front of a well-lit ER entrance. Two male EMTs opened the back doors as a team of doctors approached the large emergency vehicle.

"Twenty-seven-year-old male," one of the EMTs announced and pulled out a gurney, assisted by his partner. The doctors waited readily to receive their patient.

"Jumped three stories from a burning building," the paramedic continued, "He's in shock, but awake. BP's 95 over 60 with a rate in the 120s. GCS 14 in the field."

The EMTs rolled the gurney onto the ground. It was occupied by two patients; both young men were strapped together to the gurney. They were wearing Preventer uniform; the fabric was scorched by fire and soaked with blood. One agent was laid on his back, holding the other one who was laid prone on top of him. The prone agent was sprawled lifelessly over his injured partner, his head resting on the young agent's chest. His facial features were deathly pale and streaked with smut. A heap of messy brown bangs fell over his eyes. His eyelids were closed, his lips blue and scabbed. The other agent, the one lying on his back, was awake, looking up at the starry sky with a pair of tearful cobalt blue eyes. There was an oxygen tube under his nose. His face was also streaked with soot and blood. He held onto his partner, his arms wrapped tightly around the young man's limp body.

"Why are there _two_ patients on _one_ gurney?" A middle-aged doctor, the senior of the group, asked sternly, frowning at the EMTs.

"He's dead," the other EMT said, sighing.

"Heero..." the young agent moaned sorrowfully and embraced the other man closer. The EMTs pushed the gurney inside and the doctors followed them.

"We couldn't find a pulse," the second EMT explained; "We tried to pull him off, but this one just held on," he gestured at the conscious agent. "He was agitated, got real violent. He wouldn't let him go, so we had to stop before we hurt him. This was the only way we could bring him in."

"Heero..." The young Preventer agent wept mournfully as he was wheeled into the ER. He was looking up through glassy blue eyes that didn't seem to register anything.

"Police said he carried his partner out the window and jumped to escape the explosion," the EMT continued; "We think he was trying to break his partner's fall."

"An explosion?" the middle-aged doctor asked worriedly; "Did anyone else get hurt?"

"No. Those two were the only agents at the scene."

"Alright, let's get them into trauma one," the senior doctor ordered and the team wheeled the gurney into a separate treatment room. Doctors and nurses scuttled around the gurney, making their assessments.

"His skin is mottled and cyanotic," the senior doctor determined; "We have to get this guy off of him."

A female doctor leaned over the conscious agent. Her kind brown eyes shone with sympathy when she noted how the distraught young agent was resting his hand gently over his partner's blood-clotted brown hair, petting him softly.

"Sir, you have to let him go," she said softly. The agent's eyes darted towards her. They were no longer glassy, but fierce and angry.

"No!" he cried, distressed. "No!"

"Sir, we have to move him in order to help you," the senior doctor intervened again. "There's nothing we can do for him. His neck was broken in the fall. He's dead."

"No... No!" the young man cried. "Help him! Help him... please! You gotta save him... please!"

The two doctors exchanged worried looks. The female doctor leaned closer carefully.

"Sir, what is your name?" she asked calmly.

The young agent blinked a few times, confused. "Uh, M-Maxwell..." he slurred and his eyes watered with tears; "A-Agent M-Maxwell... I... We're... Is he..?"

"Agent Maxwell, what is your partner's name?" The female doctor continued asking while her associates waited tensely to continue treatment. Two orderlies approached with a second gurney, ready to take the deceased agent away. Seeing this, Agent Maxwell began to panic and held on even tighter, clutching the other man's body tightly. He turned to her, his eyes wild, pleading.

"No... Don't take him... don't take him... help him..."

"Sir, you don't have to worry about him right now, okay? There's nothing we can do for him. Let us help you, please."

The young agent was crying openly now, his breath short and panicky. He caressed his partner's bloody hair, weeping.

"H-Heero... Is he..? Is he..? No... No... I saved him... Please... help him... make him live... please..."

"Sir, can you tell me your first name please?" the female doctor requested steadily. The young agent sniffled, nodding his head.

"D-Duo... It's... It's Duo..."

"Duo, it's time to let Heero go," she said firmly; "He's gone."

"Gone? W-What do you mean _gone?!_ He can't be gone! Heero! Heero! Wake up! C'mon! WAKE UP!"

"Duo, he died."

"No... No..." Duo shook his head in denial. "No! No! Check again! Check again! He... he... I... I... he can't... can't be... gone..."

"He's gone. I'm sorry."

"Heero... no..."

"You did everything you could."

"No! No..."

"You tried your best. You held him, protected him and he died in your arms."

"No..." Duo moaned, crying, "Heero... no..."

The senior doctor stepped in again. "He's no longer in any pain, Duo," he said, "but _you_ are and I'm sure he wouldn't want you to be. You have to let him go now so we can help you, okay?"

"He's... he's my... he's mine." Duo cried, shaking strongly but holding onto Heero anyway. "I can't. No..."

"Duo," the female doctor rebuked softly; "Duo, I'm so sorry," she placed her latex-gloved hand over his arm gently and looked sadly into his eyes. "It's time. Let Heero go."

"But I... I... I love him... I shoulda... I... I shoulda saved him... we jumped... he shoulda... he... he shoulda made it! He... he... I... I haffta save him... please... please... save him... you gotta save him... please..."

"Duo, please. He wouldn't want you to suffer. Let us help you. I know you love him, but you have to let him go. There's nothing more you can do. You can't save him."

He looked at her, as lost as a small child.

"I... I tried..." he mumbled, weeping.

"I know you did. It's time to let go."

"I haffta to save him... I... Oh God... there's gotta be a way... please... Heero..."

Sobbing, Duo finally let go. His arms dropped limply to the sides and a pained whimper escaped his lips. He closed his eyes, sobbing quietly.

The medical staff rolled Heero's body off of him, placing him in the second gurney and wheeled him aside. The rest of the staff immediately pounced onto their still living patient, assessing the injuries.

"Airway's intact, but there's a little soot."

"Hypotensive and a rigid abdomen."

"Pupils are equal and reactive bilaterally."

"Right lower leg is tense and swollen."

"I'm going to measure compartment pressures..."

Meanwhile, the female doctor stepped over to the second gurney and checked for a pulse. Once she confirmed there was none, she pronounced:

"Time of death – two twenty four AM."


	2. Act One - Part 1

**Author's Note:** Posting Part 1 just to give you a taste of things... Hope you'll enjoy.

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>Act One<strong>

**Part 1:**

Darkness. A restless ocean rustled in the background. The gentle echoing of waves resonated through him like the soothing echo of a seashell placed against his ear. A salty ocean breeze swept by, tousling his hair and tickling his nose. The sand beneath him was wet, cold. He lay on his back against the hard yet comfortable surface, the pleasant autumn sun washing over his face as clouds drifted up above, obscuring and revealing sunlight as they pleased.

The perfect calm was interrupted by a persistent vibration in his pocket. He kept his eyes closed and moved his arm against the cool sand. He reached into his jeans and pulled a small smartphone device from his pocket. A pair of Prussian blue eyes opened sluggishly. He blinked, blinded by the hazy white brightness all around him. He brought the small phone above his face and squinted against the bright cloudy sky until his vision focused on the phone. A textbox was highlighted on the main screen:

_CalAlarm_

_2 Sep. AC 195_

_Practice 15:30_

_Dismiss / Snooze_

He hit _'Dismiss'_ and shoved the phone back into his jeans' pocket, sighing. Rolling over to his side, wet sand smearing over his plain clothes as he turned, he snatched his backpack off the ground and used the momentum of the turn to jump to his feet. His long legs were lean but strong; the well-toned limbs of an athlete. He dusted moist sand off his bright-blue-denim jeans and threw the backpack's strap over his shoulder. Sand was stuck to his messy brown hair, falling in chunks as he turned to walk away, leaving the secluded strip of beach. He trudged towards the thick Indian-grass kissing the sand where the beach ended and the hills rose high above the shore.

His hair was cut short, but messy; the front just a tad longer than acceptable. It was a boyish hairdo that hid his eyes from sight, which was exactly the point. He liked it this way, the shelter. Stubborn grains of sand clung to his tangled and unruly locks. Using one hand, he ruffled the hair at the back of his head roughly as he walked, trying to shake as much sand out of it as he could.

The pristine beach was encompassed by an endless row of rolling glacial hills covered with tall bluestem and switch grass. The towering phragmites and beach-grass bended in the wind, folding in waves mirroring the ocean below. Gray autumn sunlight filtering through the grayish-white clouds above painted a gloomy picture which only added to the sheer beauty of the place. This was his favorite spot on the island. It was such a visceral experience to be lying on that cold hard sand, letting the ocean air engulf you. He could almost blend with it, phasing out of existence.

He climbed up a steep hill, panting quietly as he trampled the tall grass. When he reached the top he stopped, turning to face the ocean. Raging bluish-gray waters surged in foamy white currents as far as the eye could see. Towering bluffs stretched along the seashore. The rock-face was stunning; the display of rustic yellowish and reddish earth-tones was one of its kind on the island. It looked like fire dancing on the cliff-face. Some said it was because the beach was haunted, marked by the devil himself. The perfect panoramic beach at the bottom of the colorful moraines felt either like the edge of the world, or a jumping-off point to something new and unknown. It was his own little private corner of the world, a bridge between his life on the island and whatever lay out there, beyond the sea.

There was life on the island, and there was the life beyond. His life was divided perfectly into two halves: before the island, and after. One was a nightmare, the other still felt like a dream. He was never certain which was which. He had been there once, in the great beyond. Far away from the island. Far across the ocean and waves, way beyond the clouds and sky. He knew what lay beyond the boundaries of the island... he knew it wasn't safe. Life Before was never safe. Life on the island was safe, dull. Which one was the nightmare?

Tearing his pensive gaze away from the stormy ocean, he turned to face inland. A large green meadow spread before him, grass swaying with the cold wind. He zipped up his navy-blue nylon jacket. It was very windy uphill. A narrow road split the wide green plain, running along the coastline. He walked to the bumpy old motorway and picked up a pair of mountain-bicycle that was laid at the side of the road. He mounted the bike, secured his backpack over his shoulders and cycled away, speeding past green plains and gray beaches below.

Block Island was only about 13 miles off the coasts of Rhode Island and Long Island, only an hour away by ferry to the mainland, but it still felt like the edge of the world. Only about a thousand people lived on the island. The rest of it was set aside for nature conservations, having been listed as one of "The Last Great Places". The town of New Shoreham, which was coextensive with the island, was the least-populous municipality in the state. It was a sought-after summer tourist destination, always bustling with people during the summer months. The Summer People found its beauty bucolic, but to him it always felt elegiac; bleak and numb.

It was a small town, and it always felt so brutally _bright_, even when the skies were overcast. There was no place to hide, not much room for privacy or anonymity. Everyone pretty much knew everyone amongst the locals. You could only get lost in the crowds during the summer, when the island was flooded with tourists. For them, the island was a summer town – wild and exciting. To him, it was normal, quiet. It was home. The cultural and socioeconomic rift between locals and visitors was about the most interesting thing to ever happen on the island and it only lasted for about three months a year. Once summer was over the island geared down and closed up in preparation for the harsh winter. As the weather became windy, cold, blustery and rainy, people struggled to make a living and the glamorous days of summer became nothing but a distant memory in a dreary gray routine.

Come September first, the tourists left and the island became numb once again. He preferred it that way. Summertime was the worse. He was much more comfortable during the colder months of the year, when the Atlantic Ocean was gray and rampant, its wildness beckoning him to its deserted shores where only dozens of ancient shipwrecks were there to keep him company.

But autumn also signaled the opening of the school year; today was the first day of school. He was a sophomore now, starting 10th grade. Block Island's School educated about 130 students in total, from kindergarten through senior year. There were only seven students in his class; the same group of kids he was destined to share a classroom with from the day he came to live on the island until graduation day. He has known them since second grade, though he could hardly call them his friends. He didn't have any friends. No one wanted to be friends with the_ New Kid_ and it more or less stayed that way throughout the years. He didn't mind. People weren't really his thing.

In a futile attempt to try and help him connect with his peers, his dad signed him up for the sports team a few years back. The Block Island Hurricanes competed in three main sports, each played during different seasons. In the fall, they played soccer. Winter was basketball and spring was baseball. He hated all of them, but he supposed that if he had to pick a lesser evil it would be basketball. He used to play it with his dad in the back yard when he was a kid, so it was okay, kind of.

Right now, he was headed for soccer practice. Correction – _running late_ for soccer practice. There was a big Coastal Prep League game coming up and Coach was pressing them for extra practice. He didn't mind the strenuous sports activity, it kept him in shape, but he didn't like all the stupid pep-talk and rallying around the silly game. The BI Canes were just a stupid way to get people on the island all worked up over nothing. Varsity Soccer wasn't all that anyway. He was a good athlete, but that didn't necessarily mean that he liked playing team sports. He only did it just to pass the time, really, and to keep his dad from ranting on and on about how he should go out more and make friends instead of sitting in front of his computer all day long.

The teams were co-ed, but there weren't any girls in the junior-high classes while he was a ninth grader, so it was an all-boys' team up until now. As a sophomore, he was a part of the high-school team, which consisted of sophomores, juniors and seniors, so there were two girls on the team. His dad joked about him finally getting a chance to date, but those girls were older, and up until recently even taller than him; he has only just begun a growth spurt, which was a real nuisance because his muscles always ached as they tried to catch up with his rapidly growing bones. Puberty was a real bitch.

And besides – he didn't _date_.

Heading into town, he drove down Center Road on the way to school, passing by Block Island State Airport. It was a small airport, consisting of only two runways, a medium-sized hangar and an old New England style building that served as a terminal, surrounded by large green fields of grass. The American Flag flapped proudly at the front of the small gray building; a United Earth Sphere Alliance flag dangled below it. It was a general aviation airport with non-scheduled air transport operations for remuneration or hire. Small planes were scattered across its grounds. One was taking off as he rode his bike past the airfield. It was a small white Cessna taking off into the cloudy gray skies.

His dad worked as a pilot-for-hire, flying a Cessna much like the one that just flew by. His father was very busy during the summer, when tourists booked flights for travel or leisure, but during the fall when work on the island became scarce, he usually made rounds for New England Airlines, which offered regularly scheduled 12-minute flights from Westerly, Rhode Island. He was away a lot during the colder months of the year, flying supplies and whatever other odd jobs he could find so he could "put food on the table", as he said. For some reason, that was a real issue with his dad and he often wondered if it meant that he came from an underprivileged background.

He didn't mind, he was used to being alone. His dad has been gone for over a week now and was only due back tomorrow. He promised to make it back in time for the first day of school, but something came up. That was okay. He didn't need his dad to hold his hand on the first day of school; he never did. He never needed anyone to hold his hand for anything. He was fine on his own.

Block Island's School was a small red-bricked building with a plain brown rooftop and a white clock tower suitable of old New England architecture. He parked his bike by the large green outdoor playing field. Practice was already underway. Teenagers – boys and girls alike – were running across the field dressed in red sweatshirts and matching gym shorts. He unzipped his jacket, revealing a similar red sweatshirt underneath and kicked his shoes off while throwing the jacket onto the bike. He scrambled hurriedly out of the jeans, already wearing the gym shorts underneath so he wouldn't have to waste time in the locker rooms. His soccer shoes were tied to his bike, dangling from the stem. He snatched them hastily and put them on as he walked into the play field.

"Glad you could join us!" Coach rebuked him the moment he stepped onto the wet grass. "You can start by giving me five laps," he grunted, shaking his head in disappointment. "Jesus, Heero, what the Hell am I gonna do with you, huh?"

Heero ignored him and started running around the field. Even though he had just cycled across the island, he sprinted easily through all five laps, barely breaking a sweat. There was a reason why he was Coach's star athlete; he was in excellent shape and extremely disciplined. Once done serving his penalty, he joined the team for the rest of the practice, enduring it until it was finally over.

It was dark by the time he left school. Still wearing his gym clothes, Heero went back to fetch his bike. He grabbed the handlebars and rolled the bike along with him as he made his way out of the playing field and towards the main driveway in front of the school.

A red pickup-truck stood there waiting, its engine humming loudly. Heero paused and looked at the truck, frowning. His fists curled tightly around the handlebars. He stood there for a second longer before heaving a sigh and heading towards the truck. He threw his bike in the back, slamming the tailgate forcefully. He entered at the passenger's side, threw his backpack to the floor and shut door loudly. He wasn't angry or anything; at least, he didn't think he was... why should he be?

"I thought you had to fly to Connecticut," he said quietly, never turning to face the driver. There was no accusation or bitterness in his voice. It was just a plain statement spoken in a quiet monotonous voice. Those were probably the first words he had said all day, perhaps all week, since his dad went off to work on the mainland.

"I thought so too," the driver confirmed, "but the client cancelled," he grumbled irately and shifted the truck into gear. They drove off. Heero looked out the passenger window, gazing numbly at the sleepy old town.

"So you're home?" he asked, never tearing his eyes off the window as the town of New Shoreham passed by.

"Yeah, looks like it."

He finally turned to face the driver; a man in his mid-thirties dressed in worn-out blue jeans and a ragged black-leather jacket that were better suited for a guy in his twenties. Then again, his father was anything but conventional, from his unusual name to his eccentric thigh-length braid. Heero eyed the chestnut-brown rope resting over his dad's shoulder and his eyes narrowed with disdain. Why would a grown man sport such long hair anyway? And why wear it in a _braid?_ That was so gay, it was _embarrassing_.

"For how long?" He asked and his dad sighed tiredly.

"I got this gig comin' up next week, so... a few days, I guess," he said. "Then I'm off to pick up this fancy _dick_ moving into the island or whatever... some rich guy who won't be bothered taking the ferry with the rest of us _commoners_. But it's good money, so... yeah. How was practice?"

Heero turned back to face the window. "Fine."

"When's the big game?"

"Next week."

"Oh man... please don't say Monday."

"...okay."

His father grimaced and turned to him with a guilty face. "Damn... I'm so sorry, Heero," he said, placing a warm hand over his shoulder. He turned to him, studying the man's face quietly. He really did look like he felt bad about missing the game.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna haffta miss it," his dad apologized softly.

"It's okay," Heero mumbled and turned to look out the window again.

"No, it's not," his father muttered guilty. "I should be there. I'm sorry."

"I don't care, really."

His father sighed quietly, as he often did when faced with his indifference. A typical fifteen-year-old, he was often accused of being apathetic, insolent and disdainful. But Heero didn't care what anyone thought. They could all drop dead for all he cared. His guidance teacher often scolded him for wasting his potential and keeping his grades at a bearable level, even though he was capable of so much more. She didn't get it and he didn't care to explain. All he wanted was to be left alone.

His dad released a weary sigh and reached to change gears. His movements were slow, tired all of a sudden. Heero studied the man's face carefully. Sometimes he feared that he was pushing it a bit too far. One day, his dad would finally get sick and tired of him and leave. Everyone did eventually. He inhaled shakily and turned his gaze out the passenger window, gazing wretchedly at the darkness cloaking the island.

They were heading up Corn Neck Road, just past the Great Salt Pond, where the land narrowed to a few dozen feet of soil; a bottle neck of sorts connecting the main landmass to a smaller, more secluded part of Block Island. They were driving along the coast now, the ocean flanking them from both sides of the road. At night, it looked like they were driving on the edge of nothing. There was nothing but black as far as the eye could see.

There were fewer houses on this part of the island, mostly ranches. They lived in a small farmhouse just off of Corn Neck Rd, overlooking the wide Great Salt Pond, a round and almost entirely enclosed body of water separating the north and south regions of the island. He could see it through his bedroom window. It was nice.

"How was the first day of school?" His father picked up the useless conversation after a while.

"Fine," he mumbled, gazing numbly out the window.

"Yeah? How's sophomore life treating you?"

"Pretty much the same."

"Meet any new friends?"

"Why?" He turned to glare spitefully at his father. "Are there any new people on the island?" he retorted nastily and his dad turned to scowl at him.

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Don't bother," Heero muttered and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned to glare out the window, watching as they drove past a few desolate farmhouses. His farther turned the truck off of the main road and onto a narrow dirt road. The ride became a bit bumpy and Heero bounced a little in his seat. Looking out the windshield, he could see their old country house looming up ahead.

"I'm thinking pot-roast for dinner," his father suddenly declared with a smile, as though dinner was any reason to celebrate. He usually skipped dinner when his dad wasn't around. He wasn't hungry anyway.

"Sounds good?"

"I guess."

"Or we can eat out if you want," his dad offered.

"Yeah, okay."

"Yeah? What do you feel like having?"

"I don't know. Pot-roast is fine too."

Frustrated, his father shook his head, heaving a sigh. "I'll figure something out," he muttered and pulled into the driveway. Heero stepped out of the truck and went to retrieve his bike.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued (soon)<strong>

What did you think of this so far?

I am making an exception for this story by posting it before it's complete. I swore to never do this again (in fear I might never finish it), but what I fear more is that by the time I'm done writing there won't be anyone out there to read it. I have written 13 chapters so far and hopefully your R&R would help me see this story to completion. If not, then this fic will just have to be like most fan fiction stories - posted whenever inspiration strikes.

Elle


	3. Act One - Part 2

**Author's Note:** Just in case Winter Storm Juno is threatening to ruin your plans for the day and you're settling in for a cozy snow day at home, I thought I'd share some reading material to pass the time...

Also, I would like to thank the kind readers who reviewed this story so far. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>Paradox<strong>

**Act One - Part 2:**

Ocean waves washed upon an unspoiled beach encompassed by spectacular bluffs. Heero lay on his back, spread-eagle across the cold sand, his eyes closed as he listened to the swooshing of the sea. His expression was blank rather than serene. A soft breeze tousled his unruly bangs, swaying the chocolate-brown hair from side to side. His schoolbag was laid tossed next to him, a large golden trophy thrown against it, discarded for lack of care.

They won the game 3-2. The BI Canes were now the CPL's tournament champions. He had personally scored two out of the three goals that brought them the championship and therefore Coach decided that he got to take the trophy home "for a spin". Yeah, like he cared. He considered chucking the damn thing off a cliff and into the ocean just so he won't have to take it home and have his dad see it. The idiot probably won't shut up about it, acting all proud and shit. Whatever. He will bring the trophy back to school tomorrow. He didn't need it.

The whole town celebrated the victory last night. He just went home the minute the ferry docked into the harbor. He didn't call his dad to tell him about the win; he'll probably hear all about it when he comes back. It was all people talked about. He could imagine how they will praise him when talking to his father; he cringed just thinking about it. People were so annoying. They wouldn't leave him alone at school today. By morning recess he got so sick of it that he just took his bike and split. He spent the day at the beach, enjoying the silence.

His perfect sense of seclusion was interrupted by a loud roar of a jet engine. He opened his eyes, faced with a gloomy gray sky, and sat up quickly, leaning against the sand. His eyes searched the clouds above, but whatever aircraft had passed over him just now was most likely high above cloud-level. He let his gaze drop towards the murky ocean, and frowned warily.

A massive battleship was sailing in the near horizon.

_That_ was new.

Again the sound of whirring jet engines thundered across the beach. This time, he could make out two black spots speeding towards the large ship. Mobile suits? All the way out here in the edge of nowhere?

They looked a lot like the OZ-07AMS Aries, built expressly for aerial combat. With its pair of jet engines and aerodynamic control surfaces, the Aries was fully capable of independent atmospheric flight. They were also one of the first transformable mobile suits capable of folding its legs up into its body for flight. Even when compared to an OZ-06MS Leo – which he was much fonder of – using a flight backpack, the Aries was still inferior in terms of speed and armor thickness, although it could maintain flight for much longer periods of time. It would be the perfect MS for a large-scale aerial scouting mission.

He was kind of a mecha-nerd. He knew everything there was to know about mobile suits after spending many hours online reading about them. The Aries used to serve as the primary aerial force of the Alliance for nearly twenty years, as well as OZ's special forces, but now that OZ has more or less turned against the Alliance, it was hard to tell if the Aries suits he just saw were OZ or Allied Forces.

He didn't quite follow the news so he wasn't certain who had the upper hand at the moment. The war has been raging for over a year now and at some point OZ military forces started a coup d'état against the Alliance, trying to overthrow the United Earth Sphere Alliance government and put some other bunch of _idiots _in power. Then there were those Gundams sent from space to fight against both or something like that. They've been raising havoc on Earth since last spring. It was all pretty complicated and he really didn't care because the war was just something vague that happened _out there_, way beyond the island. Nothing ever happened on the island.

He watched the two Aries suits land on the flight deck. Silence fell again. The ominous battleship continued circling the island.

* * *

><p>His father was unusually quiet during dinner. He didn't even say anything about the trophy. They sat in the dining room, which always felt too large for only two people and even more desolate when illuminated dimly at night. It was very quiet and the sound of cutlery clanking softly against their plates was painfully loud.<p>

"How was that thing with the rich guy?" Heero finally asked, looking up from his plate. His father sat at the other side of the hefty wooden table, shoving food around his plate with his fork. It took him a moment to realize he had been asked a question.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up. He then seemed to process what he had been asked.

"Oh, it was good. No biggie," he mumbled and resumed eating. "They settled in the old Thomson's house. Really pimped that old crib."

Heero nodded in acknowledgement and continued eating in silence. He really didn't have anything to say about that. Usually his dad was the one to make conversation. His silence made Heero uneasy.

"How was school?" His dad asked after a while.

Heero shrugged dismissively. "Okay, I guess."

"Yeah?" His father looked at him sternly. "Then why did I haffta make an excuse for you cutting classes in the middle of the day?"

Heero cast his gaze down to his plate again. "You know about that?" he mumbled ruefully, poking his food with the fork.

"Your principal called. Wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine."

"Where were you all day?"

"Around."

His dad sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Don't run off like that. I hate it when you go AWOL."

"This place is 7000 acres big and surround by a fucking _ocean_," he muttered in dismay; "where could I _possibly_ go?"

"Don't get snippy with me, Heero. It's been a long day and I ain't in the mood."

"Yeah well, no one forced you to do any _parenting_ today, _Duo_. I know how to take care of myself."

His dad slammed his fork and fist on the table. "I told you a thousand times, Heero – I don't approve of you using my name like that. I know I ain't your real father, but I deserve at least that much. Show some respect."

Heero gaped at him, stunned. It was very rare for Duo to snap at him like that; he must have struck a raw nerve. He bowed his head down, staring meekly at his plate.

They continued eating in tense silence. After a while, Heero raised his head again and looked at his dad carefully. He hesitated, trying to find a way to bring up the next touchy subject.

"We have a school excursion next week," he said slowly, knowing he was threading on thin ice. "I need you to sign a permission slip."

His dad turned to look at him, frowning warily. "Where are you guys going?"

"The Museum of Natural History," Heero mumbled tensely.

"New York City?" his dad asked in dismay.

Heero nodded slowly; he could already see the answer in Duo's eyes. His dad didn't even stop to think about it. "No," he said and turned back to his plate, spearing food brutally with his fork. "Sorry, Heero, not this year."

"But it's for this science class in school," he insisted and his father heaved a frustrated sigh.

"My answer is still no."

"But it's only a school-trip... It's not like they'll let us do anything fun."

"Regardless, I'm still saying no."

"But—"

"No more _buts_," Duo snapped irately. "This isn't open for negotiation. I said no and that's my final answer. Don't test me on this one," he warned; "I'm your father and what I say sticks."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to raise me," Heero grumbled petulantly.

Duo snorted nastily. "Right," he scoffed; "I suppose I shoulda just left you to live on the streets of that colony? An eight-year-old with an _attitude_. I'm sure you woulda done _great_ for yourself!"

Heero cast his eyes down, subdued, and Duo sighed wearily.

"Jesus, Heero... what's gotten into you lately?" he whined, frustrated. "It's like you woke up one morning and decided to be a total _dick_. Since when did you become such a handful, huh?"

"Since you won't let me do _anything!_" Heero snapped and slammed his plate angrily on the table.

"I let you do whatever you fucking want!" Duo shouted back; "I have no _fucking idea_ what you do all day!"

"Anything but go off this _stupid _island!" Heero retorted loudly, standing up.

"And where would you fucking go?" His dad scoffed sarcastically. "Back to space? Back to all the _shit_ you had going on before?"

"Just _shut up_," Heero muttered nastily and stomped out of the dining room. He ran upstairs to his room and slammed the door behind him loudly. He threw himself on the bed, angry with the world.

He hated being reminded of his life _before_. He recalled very little of what life was like before Duo, but what he did remember was enough to make him wish he didn't. His earliest memories were those of fear and blood. He had spent half his childhood being raised by a man who utilized him as a weapon and nothing more, trained as an apprentice in the art of assassination, sabotage and stealth. It was a ruthless and painful life. No room for error. His every mistake was met with brutal punishment. Heero refrained from thinking about it as much as he could. The past could not be changed, but it could still be ignored. He hated it when his dad reminded him of _Before_. He hated that no matter how angry he was with the man who became his adoptive father, he could never stay angry for long when reminded that if Duo hadn't shown up after Odin died, his life would probably still be full of torment. Duo had saved his life, and he owed him more than he could ever repay in this lifetime.

After Odin died, he was stranded on a colony still undergoing construction. He must have been about seven or eight. It was supposed to be his last mission, Odin had said. Enough, he had said; a child was dead weight. He ordered him to settle down, go to school and live a normal life. Enough killing; he would be better off in some foster home.

That would have probably been for the best, but something went wrong. Odin died during the mission. He was left to fend on his own, struggling to survive on the streets. Odin had taught him how, but there wasn't much on the colony; just the military command center. He was starving, desperate. He roamed the colony for days, searching aimlessly without knowing what he was looking for exactly; a way out, maybe. On one of his many wanderings, he passed by an alleyway. An old man sat in its shadows. He noticed him and asked him to approach. He hesitated at first, but in his despair he found that he could not refuse the old man's request. He took a step into the alley and then suddenly – Duo came. He just popped out of nowhere, coming from behind him calling: _'There you are! I've been looking all over for ya!'_

He had frowned at the strange braided young man who looked like one of the colony construction workers, dressed in the same brown jumpsuit and streaked with dirt. He was about to tell him to piss off, that he did not know him, but then Duo gave him this strange look before he leaned over him like some reprimanding parent and asked: _'What did I tell you about accepting candy from strangers?'_

He was sure that the braided man was out of his mind, but then the old man in the alley turned to Duo and asked: _'Is he with you?'_ Duo then placed a hand on his small shoulder and pulled him close to him, as if protecting him somehow. _'Yeah, he's with me, so back off ya old fart. You ain't getting your dirty claws on him this time'._

The old man seemed surprised, and so was he because until that moment he hadn't even noticed that the old man was disfigured: with a metal claw for a hand. The sight frightened him and he found himself unintentionally inching closer to the young man who still had his arm around him protectively.

_'C'mon, Heero, let's get outta here,'_ Duo said and he had turned around, looking up at the man. He realized that the man was referring to _him_, which didn't make much sense because he didn't have a name, and he didn't recall ever being called "Heero" by anyone. He was confused, so he thought back on the last thing Odin taught him before he died: _'However carefully you plan, you never know if some __**idiot**__ is going to change the future, so you may as well do what your heart tells you so you won't regret it later.'_ [[i]]

He thought he finally understood what it meant. When the curious braided young man pulled him away from the alleyway, he had followed because it felt right. And, just like that, his life with Duo began. Ever since that strange encounter by the alley, Duo has been raising him as though he was his son and there wasn't a day that went by in which Heero didn't feel that if not for Duo, he would have ended up following that metal-clawed old man, and he would have probably regretted it.

While as a natural part of raising him Duo had disciplined him as one would discipline any child, he had never done so with anger and he had never mistreated him in any way. He had been nothing but kind and understanding towards him, even when he had given him hell, testing boundaries, trying to find the limit to Duo's commitment towards him. He had done every wrong he could think of just to see how much Duo could take before he too abandons him. Duo, however, never did and Heero learned to accept the man's love and care.

Duo was a fact he could not argue with; he was there, and Heero was grateful for it. Duo taught him many things he had never known before as a child. He had taught him about fun and games; he had taught him about hugs and loving caresses; he had taught him about laughter and joy, trust and security. He was safe with Duo; safe to just be a kid, to play and to smile, to live carefree and loved.

It was very difficult to trust Duo at first. He remembered that first night, just after their strange encounter by the alley. Duo took him someplace safe, he assumed that it was some sort of residence designated for the men working on the colony's construction. He was very hungry after days of starvation on the street. Duo made him soup from a can. He wolfed it down hurriedly. Then he felt sleepy so Duo took him to bed. He covered him tightly and sat down on the edge of the bed, simply looking at him with this strange look in his eyes. He stared back at Duo silently, unable to close his eyes to sleep. He rubbed them tiredly, wishing to sleep, however fear would not allow him to relax. He stared at the stranger sitting by his side, wondering what the man was expecting of him. Did he have to work for him now that Odin was gone?

Duo reached a careful hand to brush a few hairs out of his eyes. The soft caress startled him; he tensed fearfully under the bedcovers. Duo must have realized that he was making him nervous, so he pulled his hand away, smiling apologetically. The loss of the soft hand saddened him; no one has ever petted his hair before and he feared that now Duo won't dare to do it again.

_'It's okay,'_ Duo had whispered softly, _'You can sleep. I won't harm you, Heero',_ he promised.

_'I'm not Heero,'_ he whispered back, thinking that the man must have mistaken him for someone else, because he couldn't think of any other reason for receiving such kindness. Duo just smiled and nodded in understanding.

_'Is there another name you'd like me to call you by?'_ he asked. There was none, so he shook his head 'no'.

_'Then Heero it is,'_ Duo declared, smiling. He couldn't think of a reason to refuse the new name, so he just nodded back in agreement, accepting it.

_'What's yours?'_ he dared to ask, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He wasn't sure why, but hearing the man tell him his name had calmed him somehow. Duo asked if it was okay if he'd pet his hair again, to help him fall asleep. He agreed and Duo had smiled. It was the best sleep he ever had, even to this day. He had finally realized what it felt like to be safe; to sleep calmly without being afraid. It didn't take long for Duo to teach him what it felt like to be loved as well.

He knew that he owed Duo his life; he felt guilty for giving the man a hard time. However, ever since the war reached Earth and those damn Gundams appeared, Duo hasn't been the same. Something changed. Heero couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was wrong with Duo. He didn't know what to do about it. He was just trying to be a normal kid now, putting his past as far behind him as he possibly could.

Over the past seven years he had settled comfortably into his newly regained life. He tried to enjoy being just a kid and Duo being his... well his... his dad, sort of. Kind of. Almost. He would have liked it to be official somehow, but it wasn't. Duo and he didn't exist outside the trail of papers Duo created for them. In essence, their life was a lie.

He sat up and stared numbly at his room, at all the stuff he had accumulated over the years. His life used to be his only possession. The breath in his lungs was all he really had, but it still meant very little. Life came cheap. It was as easy to create as it was easy to terminate; Odin had shown him how. There wasn't much value in possessing life, not when it was all you had. But since Duo took him in his life was given substance; it meant something to someone. Suddenly, he had more than he could ever dream of. His father has spared him nothing. There were days when he was sure Duo didn't have a penny in his pocket, but he still managed to satisfy his every childish whim.

His eyes fell on a ragged penguin doll resting by his computer monitor. The old stuffed toy stared back at him blankly with a pair of tiny black button eyes. Heero smiled weakly.

Manny the Penguin and he went way back. It was the first toy his dad ever got him. When they had first arrived on Earth, they lived in a short-term apartment complex in New York City, until his dad bought the house on the island. One day Duo took him to Central Park Zoo. It was absolutely breath taking! He was fascinated by all the different animals. He had never seen any wildlife before and kept running from one habitat to another, pointing at the animals eagerly, asking _'what's this one called?',_ _'what's this one?' _and – when he saw a Giraffe – _'Wow! What's __**this**__ one called?!'. _He was just like a kid in a candy store, only the store was that whole fucking world.

His dad took him to see the penguins' exhibit and that was the best part. He stood there the longest, watching the funny little black and white birds swim underwater, enchanted that instead of flying, the swam. He liked them so much that his dad bought him a stuffed toy penguin. Duo promised that they'd have many, _many_, more fun days like that day at the zoo, so Heero decided to call his new toy Manny.

That night, when his dad tucked him to bed, Duo had placed Manny next to him. He didn't understand why, so Duo said that it might be nice to sleep with such a cute and cuddly toy, so he tried. It was the first time he had slept with a toy by his side. It felt really weird, but he did it to make his dad happy. After a while, it became a habit and eventually he found that he couldn't quite manage to fall asleep without hugging Manny, holding onto Duo's promise while he slept.

Looking away from the little penguin doll leaning against his computer monitor, Heero ran his eyes over the rest of the room.

His colorful and vast comic book collection filled the shelves of a tall bookcase in front of him. Flashy posters decorated the blue walls with images of various vintage sci-fi movies. Science fiction was a dead genre, redundant in the age of space colonization, but he liked it. He liked how people used to see their future prior to the After Colony era; those movies represented different versions of mankind's future, imagined when everything was still a possibility. He found it fascinating, for it allowed him to picture a whole other life. His dad didn't get it, but he still brought home a copy of some old sci-fi flick whenever he stumbled upon one during his travels. They used to watch them together up until a couple of years ago, but now he just watched them alone in his room.

His room was a testament to his freedom; a sanctuary. It was the only place where it was okay to be himself – no inhibitions. An impressive collection of MS models stood proudly on a shelf above his desk. His dad grumbled that he wasted all of his allowance on those "damn things", but he liked them. He even got a job last summer, working in a small ice-cream parlor at the beach, just so he won't have to depend on the allowance his dad gave him and buy a very rare collector's-item kit: the old OZ-06MS-SN3 Leo-N model from the late AC 70s.

Leos were simple, but efficient; they had their own kind of charm. They've been in service for so long because of their adaptability: in addition to a wide variety of hand weapons, the Leo could be outfitted with a winged thruster pack for limited atmospheric flight capability. That entails some respect.

The old 06MS was his most prized possession. Placing the winning bid on the thing had been a major _nergasm _moment... not that he'd ever admit to it. Still, it was too bad he didn't have anyone to celebrate the win with (aside from a few online "friends"). His dad would never get it, because he never dared divulge anything about his life _Before_. He didn't do it to spite him, he just wanted to forget; maybe then it would be like it never happened.

He used to have a similar old Leo model when he was very little. He wasn't sure why he played with an MS model as toddler, but it was the only thing he remembered from before Odin, from before _Before_. It wasn't easy getting his hands on a mint-condition model just like his old one, and once he did he ignored all reason and took it out of the box so he could build it and place it on the shelf next to the others. He had every model in the book, except one. The latest MS model to make an appearance on the battlefield was banned by Earth manufacturers.

Heero turned to look at his computer. It was always on; the monitor currently displaying an internet browser open on a social network website and forums. A few IM windows were open as well, flashing to call for his attention. He was looking for one of those underground Gundam kits, only available through networking with the right people. Those illicit kits were amateur-made and _extremely _rare. Getting his hands on one was close to impossible, but he liked a challenge. Having one on his shelf would be the pinnacle of this dull, mundane, little life. It was all he had to go on, really.

This was his life now. And, considering what might have been the alternative, he knew that he should be grateful for it. Real or fake, it was still a good life. He was free to be a kid, complete with nerdy hobbies and boring schoolwork. That was enough for most, so why did he always feel like there should have been something _more?_

* * *

><p>He dropped off the trophy at the principal's office before heading for class. He settled into his seat in the far back of the classroom. First period was math. He liked math. It was easy, methodical. It made sense. Every problem had a solution if you followed the rules. He sat quietly, hunched over his notebook, and concentrated on solving the exercise written on the whiteboard. He finished it rather quickly, so he tried to think of a different way of solving it instead of the method they had just been taught. He came up with two different approaches and solved the problem again, twice.<p>

"Class," the teacher called for their attention. Heero finished the second solution he had come up with and only then looked up. He frowned when he noted that there was a new student standing in front of the class, next to the teacher. He was so focused on the math problem that he didn't even notice someone entering the classroom – a new face: a _girl_. She was wearing a white tailored blouse with a fancy bow-collar and a pinkish-red flared skirt. They looked expensive; a goody-two-shoes dress. Her long dishwater-blonde hair was half-down and half-up, gathered into a fine lace braid crowning her head. She was looking ahead at the class with a pair of glowering turquoise-blue eyes.

"I'd like to introduce you to a new student joining our class this year," the teacher said, gesturing at the girl to step forward. She took a small step towards the classroom, curtseying in front of the class. A few kids snickered. Heero cocked his head aside slightly, intrigued. She wasn't from around here, was she?

"Relena Darlian," the girl introduced herself quietly and straightened back up. "It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you, Relena," the teacher said. "You may take a seat. There's one at the end of the classroom."

Heero whirled his head over to his right, alarmed. The only vacant seat in the room was the one next to him. He had just lost single ownership of the empty row in the back. Damn it.

He watched the New Girl settle into the empty chair-desk. He must have been gaping like an idiot, because she turned to him, scowling crossly. _Snob._ Her eyes were fierce, angry. He looked away, turning back to his notebook and scowled deeply. He didn't like her.

**To be continued... (soon)**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

...and the plot thickens!

I would love to hear your thoughts on this so far.

Elle

* * *

><p>[i] Episode Zero manga.<p> 


	4. Act One - Part 3

**Author's Note: **I would like to emphasize that I am using the anime as a reference when trying to pin-point how Heero's absence might have affected the way things played out when he was a Gundam pilot. I know that in the "Glory of the Losers" manga Heero was the one responsible for Relena's adoptive-father's death, but I am sticking to the anime.

**Thank you so much for your reviews!**

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>Act One<strong>

**Part 3:**

School could not have been over soon enough for Heero. The minute the bell rang at the end of the day he hurried to fetch his bike, planning on heading for the beach, but then the principal caught him in the driveway and asked if he was feeling better today. His dad must have told the man that he had fallen ill and therefore cut classes yesterday. He mumbled something about still being a bit under the weather but otherwise fine and the man let him go on his way. He climbed on the bike, ready to head out, but then _Coach_ suddenly approached him with this big speech about how they're all counting on him for the next big game and Heero had to suffer through the unwelcomed pep-talked for a few good minutes before finally leaving school.

Riding along the tall bluffs, he could see the battleship anchored in the not-so-faraway waters. He could not tear his eyes off of it. There was an undeniable allure to its menacing presence.

His beach was all the way across the island. He left his bicycle at the side of the road, lying against the soft tall-grass, and hiked down towards the beach. Once his feet touched the grayish sand, he noted a second pair of footsteps on the otherwise unspoiled beach. He looked around, glaring angrily as he searched for the intruder.

The _New Girl_ was sitting on the moist sand a few dozen feet away, hugging her knees, which were drawn up to her chest, and gazing out at the raging ocean.

Out of all the beaches on Block Island – all 17 miles-long of them! – she had to pick _his?_

"You're in my spot," he accused viciously once he was standing over her. The girl didn't tear her gaze away from the water as she retorted:

"I wasn't aware that this was a private beach."

"It used to be..." he muttered quietly, annoyed. He sat down, not too close, and turned to look out at the sea, his eyes finally fixing in on the battleship.

They sat in awkward silence, watching the waves as the sun melted into the ocean, shedding warm golden light on the colorful cliff-face behind them. At sundown, the rustic earth colors of yellow, red, orange and brown looked even more like burning flames. This was when the beach was most beautiful.

Heero gathered a fistful of sand in his hand, grinding it between his fingers for a while before throwing it towards the water. The girl turned to look at him, curious.

"You don't talk much, do you?" She finally asked.

He picked up more wet sand, balling it in his fist, and threw it away. It crashed a few feet from the water, shattering.

"I don't come here to talk," he mumbled quietly and she smiled. It was the saddest smile he had ever seen.

"I guess not," she agreed and turned to look at the water again, sighing. She drew her legs closer to her chest, hugging them tightly as she rested her chin down against them. Heero studied her for a moment, noting how the wind tousled her long blonde hair. His gaze traveled to her hands, wrapped around her bended knees. They were delicate white hands, pristine and well-manicured; like royalty.

His eyes then unintentionally traveled downwards, looking at where the fabric of her reddish skirt has fallen against the sand, exposing a pair of smooth white thighs drawn up against her slim torso. Her white blouse was nearly see-thru; he could make out the faint outlines of her white-lace bra. Her round bosoms were squeezed against her bent thighs. He swallowed and looked away nervously, turning to watch the ocean instead. He focused on the battleship, trying to ignore her.

They sat side by side without exchanging another word, until the sun sunk completely into the sea. Night cloaked the beach with a blanket of chilly darkness.

"Come on," he said, standing up; "I'll walk you home."

She turned to him, still seated. "I don't need a _bodyguard_," she snapped.

"It's easy to get lost around here," he argued; "And it's getting dark."

The girl frowned at him for a moment before obliging.

"Fine," she muttered and stood up, dusting moist sand off her long legs and skirt. He considered offering her a hand, but quickly dismissed the silly notion. They walked back towards the grassy hillside, climbing up silently. Relena let him escort her home. He grabbed his bike, holding it by the handlebars and rolling it along with him as they walked down the winding road leading further away from town, to the other side of the island where she lived. It was a long walk which passed in pure silence.

Finally, they reached a large white Victorian-style mansion on top of a tall moraine overlooking the ocean – the old Thomson's house. She stopped at the gate leading into the impressive driveway and turned to him with a polite smile.

"Thank you," she said and turned to open the large iron-wrought gate. "I'll see you at school."

He stood there for a moment and watched her walk towards the enormous and brightly illuminated estate. Once he saw her step inside, he mounted his bike and left; he had a long way ahead of him, as he pretty much lived on the other side of the island. As he cycled vigorously down the dark empty streets of New Shoreham, Heero realized that she didn't even ask for his name.

* * *

><p>It had rained all through soccer practice. His clothes were soaked by the time it was over, the red sweatshirt clinging to his strapping torso as he ran across the muddy playing field towards the driveway. His untrimmed bangs were plastered uncomfortably over his forehead, dripping water onto his lips and nose. He was panting quietly, still catching his breath after a particularly strenuous practice. It wasn't that Coach was pushing him too hard; he just felt like giving something extra today. There was a burning in his chest that he just couldn't put out.<p>

He ruffled his wet bangs out of his eyes, pushing them back up as he walked over to the school bike shed. He stopped, lowering his hand down slowly, when he saw the New Girl waiting for him next to the bicycle, dressed in another one of those fancy goody-two-shoes dresses – a gray one this time – and a thick elegant red pea-coat. The school day ended over four hours ago. Why was she still here?

"I watched you play," she said with a sheepish little smile. "You're very good."

He frowned warily and slowly finished his approach. He unlocked his bike from the parking rack, eyeing her carefully the whole time.

"Were you waiting for me?" he asked quietly as he turned the bicycle around, not even facing her.

"I wanted to apologize," she said.

"What for?" He turned to her, studying her face tensely. The girl didn't seem to mind his cold glare. Usually it was enough to scare people off, but not with her, it seemed.

"I didn't even ask your name," she explained apologetically.

"Heero," he said curtly and turned to mount his bike. "And there's no need to apologize." It wasn't his real name anyway, just something Duo came up with in the spur of the moment or whatever. It kind of grew on him over the years.

"I'm Relena," she said, stepping closer and offering her hand. He looked at it for a moment, but never reciprocated.

"I know," he said instead, scowling impatiently.

She smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, I suppose you do."

Heero placed both hands on the handlebars, ready to leave. He was cold and wet and he just wanted to go home already. What did she want from him?

They looked at each other edgily for a tense moment. She wasn't going to say anything, was she?

Heero sighed and placed his foot on the pedal. He pushed it forward and then finally, she spoke:

"Someone told me you're good with computers," she said and he stopped, placing his foot back on the pavement. He turned to her, frowning.

"Who?"

She shrugged. "Jeremy."

"_Jeremy?_"

"Yes, he said you helped him out when his hard-drive crashed last winter."

He scowled darkly. "Yeah, so?"

"So I... I was wondering if you could help me."

Now he was confused. "With your _computer?_"

"Sort of..." she mumbled, suddenly uneasy. She cast her eyes down, hesitating, before looking up again, determined. "He said that if anyone knew anything about hacking around here, it would be you."

"Hacking is illegal," he muttered snippily.

"But can you do it?"

"...I guess. Why should I?"

"I can pay you."

"I don't need your money," he grunted, insulted. He prepared to leave again.

"Then what do you need?" She insisted, taking a gritty step forward.

He stopped, his legs still on the pedals. His fists curled tightly around the handlebars.

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking down sadly.

"Will you at least think about it?"

"Yeah, sure," he dismissed her and rode his bicycle away, never looking back.

* * *

><p>Heero tried to avoid Relena the next day. Even though they sat next to one another in class, he did his best to ignore her, but his gaze kept drifting sideways in her direction. He caught himself and forced his eyes to dart forward again. He tapped his pencil angrily against the wooden desk, glaring ahead at the whiteboard. That irksome burn was sizzling in his chest again. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side, fidgeting in his chair. By lunchtime, he finally surrendered to temptation.<p>

"I'll help you," he said after approaching her in the cafeteria, holding his tray as he stood by her table. She was sitting alone by a window, gazing outside broodingly and never even touching her food. She was sitting leaning over the table with her chin resting against her hand; a picture of isolation. She turned to him slowly, her face blank. He returned her intense gaze evenly.

"Meet me in the library after school," he ordered and walked away. He could feel her penetrating blue eyes on his back as he retreated. The irksome burn itching in his chest eased up a little. He had to stifle an unexplained smile as he sat down to have his lunch, alone.

* * *

><p>She was wearing a mint-green dress today, fitted at the top, hugging her feminine curves, and flared at the bottom, reaching down to her kneecaps. She smelled nice too; he couldn't help but notice her sweet fragrance as she leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer screen. He was sitting in front of the computer in the town's public library while she stood behind him, watching intently.<p>

"Why the library?" she whispered as she leaned towards him and he almost shivered when her breath touched his ear. He focused on the screen, glaring at it with a hard face as he tried to ignore her closeness.

"Isn't this a bit too public?" she asked anxiously, looking around. There were a few people in the library, but no one paid them any attention.

"A public IP makes it harder to track the source. It could be anyone," Heero explained as his fingers flew expertly across the keyboard. "Whoever traces this will have a thousand suspects on their hands."

"I see."

She drew the chair from the computer next to them and sat down, ironing the folds on her mint-green skirt. He couldn't help but notice her delicate French-manicured fingers as they glided over the soft fabric. He hurried to look at the monitor again. He should really get a grip already! So what if she was the first girl his age he has ever met and she smelled so ni— shit. He shook his head, scowling at his own stupid teenage mindset, and concentrated on the job.

"I'm in," he declared after a while and punched a few more keys on the keyboard. He turned to her tensely. "Now what?"

Relena turned to study the screen. It was a database titled "United Earth Sphere Alliance Intelligence Bureau".

"Look up _'Sanc Kingdom'_," she whispered, lowering her gaze covertly to the floor.

Heero frowned. "What's that?" he asked and turned back to the keyboard.

"Just some place that no longer exists," she mumbled.

"Shouldn't this information be public domain?"

"Not the part I'm looking for," she said, sighing. "Believe me, I looked. Just look it up, okay?"

"Fine," he muttered and entered the search words into the database. Dozens of search results popped up.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," he said.

Relena was quiet, so he turned to her. She was looking anxiously at the screen, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

"Try looking it up with the name Peacecraft," she requested briskly, ignoring his question. He frowned, confused, but did as she asked. This time fewer results appeared. He skimmed briefly over the first one:

_**Sanc Kingdom – The Peacecraft Dynasty:**_

_A small country in Northern Europe with natural borders of mountains and water with a forest to the south. Its sovereign, King Peacecraft, was an admirer of colony leader Heero Yuy and subscribed to his philosophy of total pacifism. In AC 182, the Sanc Kingdom was invaded by Alliance forces and decimated for treason. The royal family was executed._

That wasn't in any history book they used in school. Then again, the curriculum was obviously biased; he had realized that a long time ago. They never learned about Colony modern-history, just the basics of the AC ear and how human kind ventured into space. It was Duo who taught him about where he came from, about important figures like Heero Yuy, the politician who had unified the colonies and negotiated a temporary peace treaty with the military factions from Earth. His assassination on April 7th AC 175 had triggered the current conflict between Earth and the Colonies. He heard people say that the Gundams were sent to Earth on April 7th AC 195 – twenty years after the assassination – because the Colonies wanted to avenge his death.

He was just a kid when his dad first told him about Heero Yuy. He remembered asking if he was named "Heero" because of that Heero Yuy person. For some reason, the question made Duo sad. He mumbled something about how he had named him after a friend he had lost and that his friend happened to be named after the assassinated politician. A curious child, he immediately asked _'How did he die?'_, but Duo ended the conversation right there.

"Is my name in there?" Relena asked apprehensively. He turned to her, his blue eyes burning with distrust. He didn't know why, but this whole thing was making him edgy. It was weird enough to stumble onto a name much like his first name in this damn database entry, now she wanted to know if _her_ first name was in there too?! That was... troubling.

"Should it be?" he asked warily.

"Is it there or not?" she muttered tetchily.

He typed her name into the search engine parameters.

One result popped on the screen.

"Yes," he confirmed, feeling his chest contract into stone. Who _was _this girl?

"Shit," she muttered, looking away. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. "What does it say?"

"Relena Peacecraft," he read the words quietly, slowly; "Second heiress to the thrown of the Sanc Kingdom. Believed to have survived the royal family's execution. Whereabouts unknown."

She scoffed, a bitter little chuckle, before opening her eyes and turning to face the computer again. He could see her turquoise-blue eyes move left and right as she read the words herself.

"He was right," she whispered in a resigned, tired, voice.

"Who?"

"My father," she said, smiling sadly. "Or at least the man I thought was my father..."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her overly-dramatic statement.

"Don't tell me," he muttered cynically; "you're the long lost princess of a vanquished far-away land..." He smirked meanly. "I think I saw this movie... Anastasia, right? The one with the dancing maggots and flying rodent?"

"This isn't funny," she grumbled irately.

"You're right," he retorted, shoving the chair back as he stood up; "It's ridiculous," he spat insolently and switched the computer off by punching the power button with his finger.

"I can't believe I wasted a whole afternoon on this shit..." he muttered angrily, gathering his things.

"I'm not asking for any favors. I said I'll repay you for your efforts," Relena reiterated with resolve, also getting up. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her expression was somewhere between angry and upset.

"I don't need your money, _princess_."

"Then why did you agree to help me?"

"I don't know! Maybe I thought something _interesting_ was happening for a change!" Frustrated, he almost moaned the words out miserably. "I didn't think I would be indulging a little girl's fantasy of becoming a _princess!_"

"_Shut up_," she warned in a cold, biting tone. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. Yeah, okay." He grabbed his schoolbag from the floor, throwing it over his shoulder. "My apologies, your _highness_," he muttered mockingly and turned to leave. "I'm out of here..."

He stomped out of the library, angry with himself for believing, even for a second, that something _bigger_ was in store for him.

* * *

><p>By the time he reached the beach it was already sundown. The flame-like rock-face flared angrily under the last rays of golden light. Twilight played tricks on his eyes; it was difficult to see where he stepped as he made the hike down, stumbling here and there. He could barely make out the murky ocean when he finally reached the shoreline, but the soothing rustling of the waves would suffice. He settled down on the cold wet sand and gazed numbly out at the vast blackness surrounding the island. Up ahead in distance, the battleship's lights twinkled against the background of an endless starry sky.<p>

"May I join you?" Relena's timid voice surprised him. He didn't even hear her approach. She was holding a flashlight. Her dishwater-blonde hair flapped wildly in the freezing wind, as did her mint-green dress. The soft fabric flailed enticingly around her white thighs, revealing an inappropriate amount of smooth skin. He could almost see her panties...

He hurried to look up at her face.

"How'd you get here so fast?" he asked, scowling.

"My driver," she replied simply. "He's waiting up by the road," she explained, gesturing towards the bluffs.

"What – no _bodyguard?_" he droned cynically.

"There's no real need for them on the island," Relena replied seriously and he snorted.

"Figures," he muttered and turned to gaze out at the black ocean.

"Mind if I sit?"

"It's a free country," he muttered bleakly. "I hear that's a rarity nowadays."

"It is," she agreed quietly and sat down next to him.

They listened to the waves, staring unseeingly at the dark waters washing upon the sand. They watched the massive battleship sail slowly across the black horizon, illuminating the black waters with gleaming stains of yellow.

"I've never seen them close to the island before," Heero said quietly, his voice almost awed.

"They're keeping out of US territorial water," Relena remarked; "I wouldn't be worried."

His face hardened into a defensive glare. "I didn't say I was."

"Most people would be." She turned to him, studying his face carefully. "But you're not like most people, are you?"

"Are you?" he retorted, looking at her intensely.

"I guess not," she smiled wistfully and turned to look at the water again. Heero did the same. She had placed the flashlight on the ground between them. It sent a bright beam of light across the sand and all the way to the ocean, lighting the small waves touching the shore. He gripped a fistful of sand in both hands, released it to the ground, and then again. He liked the feeling of the cool earth against his skin.

"Do you really think you're her?" he mumbled the question, still toying with the moist sand. "The Peacecraft girl?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why don't you just ask your father about it?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"He's dead."

He winced, feeling like an ass.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Silence fell. The waves swooshed quietly in the background.

"Was it an accident?" Heero asked after a while.

"Political assassination," Relena said simply; too plainly. He turned to her, gaping in shock. She smiled sadly and shrugged her slim shoulders in a helpless gesture.

"He was the UESA's Vice Foreign Minister," she explained coolly; "He was killed in a bombing a few months ago. Didn't you hear about it?"

"No... Sorry," Heero mumbled, casting his gaze down to the sand. "I don't really follow the news..."

"That must be nice..." she murmured sadly, circling her finger in the sand; "being completely cut-off like this."

"Well it doesn't get any more _cut-off_ than _this_ place," he grunted and threw a ball of sand away angrily.

"I guess that's why I was sent here," Relena agreed. "My mother figured it would be safe."

"Yeah, my dad did too."

"Were you not born on the island?" She looked up, turning to him in surprise.

"Uh, no..." he mumbled, bowing his head down. He shouldn't have said anything. His father made it _very_ clear that he should refrain from speaking about their past. It wasn't safe, he said. After all, they didn't really exist.

"We, uh, my... m-my dad and I moved here when I was a kid," he explained as vaguely as he could, but that only brought on the next obvious question:

"Where are you from originally?" Relena asked. She was looking at him so intently, her blue eyes burning with such attentiveness that he could not fathom a lie.

"...space," he said simply, casting his eyes down. Duo was going to _kill _him.

"Really?" she marveled; "I understand that it's very hard for Colonists to receive residency on Earth."

"Yeah... well, my dad is sort of an expert getting into places he isn't supposed to."

"What's it like living up there?"

He thought about it for a moment, gazing numbly at the ocean. He inhaled the salty air into his lungs and released it with a sigh.

"...small. Stuffy. Crowded... Nothing like here." He gestured at the infinite ocean. "I don't really like talking about back then..." he mumbled, raking his fingers back and forth across the cold sand.

"I understand," she whispered in a sympathetic voice, turning to look at the black water again. "We all have things we don't like to talk about... I didn't like it very much either."

"Were you up there?"

"...yes. With my father."

"When he died?"

"...yes." She drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them. She placed her chin on top and gazed ahead numbly.

"Why would the Colonists kill your father?" He asked carefully, curious but cautious. He still didn't know if he should trust this girl. He already said too much.

"I didn't say they did." Relena sighed wretchedly.

"Who then?"

"If I tell you, I'll be putting you in danger. You really shouldn't get involved with me... It's not safe."

He scoffed at her melodramatic manner and turned to face the dark ocean. He focused on the battleship sailing in the distance, but his eyes kept urging him to turn in her direction. He was terribly intrigued. Maybe she wasn't the prissy little rich girl he had taken her for. Maybe... maybe she was that _something bigger_ he's been waiting for all along?

"Miss Darlian!" A male voice echoed through the beach and both teenagers turned to face the tall hills behind them. A silhouette of a man was standing against the bright yellow headlights of a car.

"I should get going," Relena sighed and stood up, dusting the sand off her green dress. She looked down at Heero, who was still seated on the sand.

"Can I offer you a ride?"

"I got my bike," he said, never tearing his eyes away from the water, and she nodded in acceptance.

"I guess I'll see you in school," she said and picked up her flashlight. She left the beach without a goodbye.

**To be continued... next weekend**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Please tell me what you think of this so far!

Elle


	5. Act One - Part 4

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you for all of your kind reviews. Thanks to your R&R, chapter 14 is now complete and I've begun working on the next chapter, so there's plenty more to come! ^_^

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>Paradox<strong>

**Act One – Part 4**

Heero rode his bike to the light of the LED flashlight attached to the stem, sending forward a brilliant beam that pierced through the pitch black of the night. Above him, the clouds had cleared, revealing a magnificent sky gleaming with countless stars. He grabbed the handlebars tightly, titled back and raised his head to the heavens, absorbing it all in as he sped down the winding road. He knew this route by heart, every turn, every bump and pothole. He loved riding at night, when the whole universe spread above him in an endless blanket of twinkling stars. It was the closest thing he had to feeling like he was a part of what was out there, in the great beyond.

His dad disapproved of him riding out here alone at night, so far away from the outskirts of town, but the island had about _zero_ crime rate, so what was there to be worried about? Besides, he could take care of himself. Odin taught him how. He never told Duo anything about it, so naturally his dad worried, but he could take care of himself if necessary. Sometimes, he even longed for a chance to prove it just so his dad would stop _fretting_. He wasn't made of glass as his father seemed to believe. As a child he used to take great comfort in his dad's overprotective nature, but now it was a nuisance.

It was very hypocritical of Duo; on the one hand, his dad didn't seem to have any problem leaving him alone for days on end, trusting him to fend for himself, but his trust only went so far. There were rules he was expected to adhere even while his dad was away: from trivial and obvious things such as doing homework and preforming his household tasks, to more strict and binding rules such as to never let anyone into the house, stay the fuck away from the liquor cabinet, no internet past 22:30 on a school-night or to heed his curfew hours. His father has been gone for almost four days now and was due back home tonight. He had very little time to get back home before curfew and tidy up the place, keeping up appearances.

A low thunder rumbled in the distance. He didn't pay it any heed at first, but then he suddenly realized that there was not a cloud in the sky, just stars, so why would there be thunder?

Then, bright light streaked the heavens for a split of a second, vanishing before he could even blink. He was about to dismiss it as a shooting star, when suddenly, the light descended into the ocean below, disappearing into the black water without a sound.

Heero hit the brakes. He jumped off the bike and ran to the edge of the cliff, his eyes searching the water below frantically. He couldn't see anything. There was nothing but pitch black and the wild whirring of the waves. Then, he spotted a light. A small patch of water was illuminated by a dim green light. It was coming from deep beneath the surface and it was getting dimmer... sinking.

Legend had it that Block Island was haunted. Many have reported sightings of ghosts on the island. Local folklore told of spirits of the dead, shipwreck victims who could not be buried until the ground thawed at the end of winter, so they still roamed the earth aimlessly. They also said that the lighthouse on Mohegan Bluffs at the southeastern corner of the island was haunted by a lady who was murdered by her husband many centuries ago. Stories had it that she tortured men in their sleep.

The lighthouse was built in the late 1900s to help ships clear the dangerous shoals and ledges typical of the Stumbling Block of the New England coast. There were two ancient lighthouses on the island, but the fog got so bad around these parts that they didn't really make any difference back in the days before radar and sonar technologies. The coastline was full of ancient shipwrecks. When he was little his dad tried to scare him with bone-chilling stories of phantom pirate ships, but those were just scary campfire tales. He was never one to be spooked easily.

His dad enjoyed trying to scare him with stories about the Palatine Light, a well-known apparition reported near Block Island, said to be the ghost ship of a lost 18th century vessel named the Palatine. The spectral ship haunted the waters off the island, bursting into flames and sinking into the ocean. Strange lights have been witnessed in this area and the legend has been used as an explanation for these sightings. They said that seeing it augurs bad news. He didn't believe it of course.

Heero waited on top of the cliff for what must have been an hour, hoping something might happen, but nothing did. Maybe it was just some faulty ocean weather buoy or something... he had seen his fair share of those darn things wash up on shore.

Disappointed, he got back up on his bike. It seemed that every time he thought something interesting was finally going to happen, he came up short. Nothing big was ever going to happen on Block Island. That was why his dad chose to settle in his hellhole in the first place – where it was 100% guaranteed that absolutely _nothing_ was _ever_ going to happen!

Cycling furiously as he rode home, Heero swore that the minute he'll turn eighteen he was off the island for good!

* * *

><p>Days went by uneventfully; schoolwork and soccer practice, mostly. There was another big game coming up next week and Coach was counting on him as his <em>star-athlete<em>. At school, they had to read this _stupid_ novel for English about some old man trying to catch a damn fish. They had to submit a book report by the end of the month. Reading the book was pure torture; it was taking forever. He took the crappy old novel with him to the beach where he could read quietly; Relena joined him sometimes. She seemed to enjoy reading it, but he couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept wandering to the sea, looking at the battleship which still hasn't left the area. It wasn't doing anything; it was just... _there_.

A big math exam was also coming up, not that he worried about that, but his fellow students were pretty nervous about it. A couple of them even approached him about tutoring them, but he couldn't be bothered. He hated stupid people; they got on his nerves real fast.

He didn't do much to prepare for the test, but now that he was a tenth grader, his math teacher was really pressing him to join the online AP math course the school offered, since it was too small to have an Advance Placement program of its own. He actually decided to go through with it, just so he could have something to challenge him. He was never an Honors student, but he certainly could be if he set his mind on it. There was nothing better to do anyway, and he was already pretty much of a dork... why not be an AP Dork and be done with it?

One gloomy Tuesday afternoon, Heero sat hunched over his AP algebra practice book, trying to figure out this tricky equation, when Relena approached his desk at the public library. He looked up blankly and she greeted him with a small nod of her head as she pulled out the chair opposite of his and sat down, placing a pile of math books on the desk. She was wearing a nice peach-pink dress. He has known her for about a month now and every day he took note of what she wore because he has never seen her wear the same dress twice. It was like a game. He was curious to see when the endless supply of fancy dresses will finally run out and begin repeating itself. He bet fifty.

"I finished those practice sheets you gave me," she told him, speaking quietly. "I think I did pretty well," she said and handed him her notebook. He took it, frowning, and quickly leafed through the pages.

Over the past month they've formed a sort of weak bond, a connection born out of mutual understanding. There was something about her that was familiar; sad, lonely and wounded... just like him. He wouldn't exactly call what they had a _friendship_, but in essence she was the closest thing he has ever had to a friend. He didn't mind her so much, maybe because she didn't pry. She seemed to understand that he wanted to keep his distance. She respected his privacy and never asked him anything; she just kept him company. Perhaps that's why he offered to help her with her math studies. She really sucked at math, but for some reason he didn't find it annoying. He tutored her twice a week.

"Ten out of twelve," he commented dryly and snapped the notebook shut. He handed it back to her. "Not bad."

Relena accepted her notebook back and turned to look at it, frowning. "Which ones did I get wrong?"

"Figure it out," he muttered and turned back to his own notebook, hunching over it with a pencil in hand. He erased something in a furious motion and then rewrote it.

Relena sighed and opened her notebook as well, browsing through the problems she had solved with a frown. "Number three?" she ventured a guess, quirking an eyebrow his way.

"No."

"Hmm," she let out thoughtfully and turned back to her notes. "Four?" She asked, looking up at him. Heero nodded, still leaning over his notebook, jotting numbers down quickly. Relena took an elegant pencil case out of her school bag, drew a clean white pencil out and tried to solve the exercise correctly. They sat together, working quietly. When she finished she presented him the notebook, holding it open before him, and he looked up, his blue eyes skimming over her solution hastily. He nodded in approval and then buried his nose in his books again.

"Now fix number eight."

Relena set her notebook down and did as he asked. She solved the math exercise, stealing glances his way every now and then. He was a very handsome boy; even with his childlike unkempt hairdo and plain outfits (usually jeans and a hooded pop-over; he could easily model for American Eagle Outfitters if he wanted). There was something very intense about his looks, something so alluring she couldn't help but stare. Luckily, he failed to notice her stolen glimpses. He was leaning over his notebook, engrossed in his work – jotting something down, scoffing irately as he erased it and scribbled a different solution, his pencil moving hastily against the paper. She has never seen him put so much effort into his schoolwork before. He usually breezed through it. AP has really challenged him and Heero seemed to thrive on challenge.

"I'd like to see the game on Monday," she let out, thinking out loud.

"Why?" he asked, never raising his eyes from the page.

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I want to see you play," she said simply.

"You've seen me practice. It's pretty much the same."

"No it's not," she countered, smirking as she imagined him out on the playing field when every move counted and every second mattered. That's when he would really shine.

"I bet you're much fiercer when you play for real."

He stopped writing down numbers and stared at her, confused. She smiled softly, gazing calmly into his eyes. Feeling awkward, he looked back down at his notebook.

"I thought you're not allowed off-island," he mumbled.

"They can't keep me here forever."

"It's been a _month_," he pointed out wryly.

"Feels like a year..." she sighed, turning to look out the windows to their side. She studied the rainclouds broodingly, before turning to him with a sad little smile.

"I'll sneak out," she declared, smiling slyly. "Martha won't even know I'm gone."

Martha was her governess, a woman in charge of caring for her wellbeing while she lived away from home, hiding on the island. He's only been to her house once, when escorting her home one night after they stayed late at the library. Other than Relena, the massive mansion was occupied only by a handful of domestic workers, a driver and the nanny. He had a feeling that at least two of the workers were from a military background; he figured they also served as bodyguards. There was a lot of security around the estate. He suspected that someone was out for Relena's life after witnessing her father's death, but he never dared to ask. It was none of his business anyway.

"Could you meet me at the house? I'll need a ride to get to the ferry."

"Get your damn driver to do it, princess."

"It's too conspicuous. They'll know where I'm going. I know how to get past security... I just need you to meet me once I'm out."

"Fine," he muttered in disdain, flinging a page over to solve another math problem without turning to look at her as he agreed to her silly plan. "I'll pick you up at four," he grunted. "Wear _pants_."

Relena laughed at his biting tone. "Fair enough," she said, smiling. She turned back to her notebook as well. They spent the rest of the afternoon studying quietly together.

* * *

><p>Even with the big game against Rocky Hill School only a day away, his dad still hasn't come home. It was Sunday morning and Coach said that they should get some rest before tomorrow. Heero spent the day cleaning the house and doing chores his dad couldn't be bothered doing, like mopping floors and scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom clean. His dad didn't really tell him to do the cleaning, but if he won't do it then no one will; it was either that or live in a damn pigsty – two guys living alone could get pretty damn nasty.<p>

It's not that his dad didn't try to keep things together when he was around, he really did, but those days were becoming scarce. Duo wasn't around much anymore. He hoped his dad wasn't pushing himself so hard because he was stressing over stupid things like a college fund or whatever. He could easily get a scholarship anyway (sports or academic); that is, if he even bothered with college. He wasn't sure yet, but if it would get him off the island sooner than later then maybe, yeah. It could happen. What else was there to do?

Dressed in a sloppy T-shirt and sweats, Heero sat kneeling in front of a white toilet, his hands covered by blue cleaning gloves and holding a toilet-brush, scrubbing the bowl clean. His cellphone was resting on the floor next to him, playing music; a slow-beat pop-ballade with a female singer droning about her "summertime sadness". He didn't really know the lyrics and what the song was all about, but he liked the title.

The music was cut-off abruptly when the phone rang. He didn't have any friends, so the only person who could be calling him would be his dad. He sighed, set the toilet brush down and removed one glove as he turned to look down at the phone ringing on the floor. Indeed, the caller ID read 'Dad'. He took the call, lifting the phone to his ear.

"You're not coming home," he more or less stated, because there was no question about it. His voice was calm, devoid of bitterness or blame.

"No," his dad mumbled after a moment's pause; "sorry... I know I promised to make it to the next game, but..." he sighed; "something came up. I'm so sorry, Heero. I really wish I could be there. It's been _ages _since I've last seen you play."

Heero gaped numbly at the toilet brush laid on the floor. He stared at it until his vision blurred.

"It's okay," he murmured almost automatically; what else could he say?

"I get it," he added quietly while staring at the toilet brush.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back," his dad hurried to promise, sounding guilty; "Anything... just ask and it's yours, okay?"

Heero gawked numbly at the brush. His dad could never give him what he _really_ wanted. He didn't even know what the _thing_ was, but he knew that if he'd ever dared ask for it, it'll break his father's heart. His expression turned wretched as he stared down at the brush. Scrubbing toilets would have to do.

"Heero?" his dad called his name ruefully; "I'm really sorry, okay? I wouldn't be doing this to you if it wasn't important. You know that, right?"

"Yeah... it's okay," he mumbled dazedly, his numb blue eyes focused on the toilet-brush. "Don't worry about it."

An awkward silence stretched for moment. His dad couldn't think of anything more to say. He was probably waiting for him to say something, but he didn't have anything to say either.

"How you doing?" his dad finally asked, almost sheepishly; "Managing okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed the word out with a sigh.

"How's school?"

"Okay," he replied. His dad didn't even know about the AP math class he was taking. He didn't see the point behind sharing anything about his life anymore. It didn't really matter; nothing he did mattered.

He picked up the toilet brush with his gloved hand.

"I'm kinda busy," he stated bleakly, glaring at the brush in his hand as he turned it around from side to side.

"Yeah, sure... sorry," his dad mumbled apologetically. "Hang in there, alright? I'll be back as soon as I'm done here. Just a while longer, okay? I promise. I'll come back and then everything will go back to normal."

"...okay," he mumbled and hung up without a goodbye. He picked up the other cleaning glove, slipped it back on and resumed scrubbing the toilet furiously.

* * *

><p>The next day, the day of the game, Heero went to the tool shed where his dad stored his old bike and detached the companion seat his dad had used to take him along for rides when he was a kid. He installed it on his own bike and went to pick Relena up as he had promised. His dad would flip out if he knew that he was taking a girl along to the game. Duo would have called it progress, he supposed, but his dad wasn't around to see it so it didn't really matter.<p>

They seemed to be living very different lives now. He told himself he was okay about it, but his dad has never missed so many games before and it was actually kind of... upsetting. His games used to mean something to his dad. Now Duo seemed very preoccupied all of the time; nothing like the father he had known as a child, the man who used to read to him before bed and play silly games all afternoon, devoting his every waking minute to be with him.

The game was taking place in East Greenwich, two hours away from the island by ferry and an hour drive. The team was to meet at school to get on the bus that'll take them there, along with anyone else who was interested in watching the game (mostly proud parents who actually gave a shit about their kids).

Carrying his gym bag over his back, Heero cycled across the island to the old Thomson's house. It was raining mercilessly and his jeans and hooded jacket were drenched. Usually his dad would give him a ride when it was pouring so hard, but apparently Duo had more important things to do than being a father.

Relena told him to meet her by the tall cliffs overlooking the ocean behind the large Thomson's estate; she said there will be less security by the steep cliffs. She was already waiting there when he arrived. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans for a change (designer brand no doubt) and holding an umbrella over her head.

She climbed on the bike, mounting the companion seat behind him, and held her umbrella over his head as well. He tensed, startled, when she wrapped one arm around his waist to steady herself. He should have expected it, but it made him jumpy anyway. No one really got this close to him except for Duo.

"Did anyone see you leave?" he asked quietly as he slowly cycled away from the large house. He rode slowly so that the chilly wind won't blow her umbrella away.

"I don't think so," she said, leaning against him so she could speak close to his ear, talking over the cold wind. "Otherwise they would've stopped me, right?"

"I guess," he mumbled, feeling uncomfortable with her closeness. The heady scent of her sweet perfume engulfed him. She was warm and he felt so cold. He didn't mind it when she leaned a bit closer, pressing her chest against his back as she chuckled quietly in his ear.

"I've never snuck out before," she said, smiling, "this is kind of exciting."

He scoffed, snorting cynically. "Yeah, well, this is about as _exciting_ as it gets around here, princess."

She laughed, a pleasant melodious sound in his ear, and he had to stifle a smile. He cycled a bit faster and felt her grip around his waist tighten. He didn't mind; in fact, he cycled faster. The burning in his chest was back, burning wildly. This was... nice.

* * *

><p>The Rocky Hill Terriers gave them quite a fight. His chest had sizzled and burnt furiously all through the suspenseful game. It was a close call up until the very end and he gave it his best, moving vigorously through the playing field, fiercer than ever. He could feel her eyes on him as she watched from the bleachers.<p>

The BI Canes won the game 4-3 after a tense penalty shootout that followed a long match ending in a draw. He had scored the winning goal from the penalty mark, the only goal made in all five attempts, and the crowd went _ballistic_. The team was all over him – cheering, shoving, praising, high-fiving and whatnot. Everyone was going about like he was some big hero when all he had done was kick a ball into a net.

They kept going on and on about it in the locker rooms. He didn't like showering with the rest of the boys, because then they might see the scars all over his body – evidence of the abuse he had suffered as a child. However this time a hot shower was unavoidable. It had rained through most of the game and the playing field got all muddy; he was drenched in mud from head to toe. He did his best to keep out of sight, shying away from the other boys. He hated having to do that, it made him feel so pathetic, but he'd hate their staring even more. They left him alone after a while. He was the last to leave the locker rooms.

Relena was waiting for him once he stepped outside, carrying his gym bag and muddy soccer shoes. He was wearing a warm black tracksuit and a spare pair of sneakers. His hair was still wet, his bangs dripping, so he pushed them up over his head so they won't drip all over his face. Relena smiled, observing him evenly. She did that sometimes, staring at him, but he didn't mind, mostly because she had caught him staring a few times as well. He had discovered a few new aspects to puberty thanks to her stupid short dresses. Seeing her in skinny jeans and a tight blouse didn't help either. He tore his eyes off her endless long legs and looked up, leveling his gaze with hers.

"Good game," she remarked softly, smiling. That was all she said before they walked together to the bus. He appreciated her reserve.

They took a seat together. Heero turned to look out the window as the bus pulled out of the Rocky Hill School's driveway. It was half past eight PM and the New England town streets were dark and empty. They drove past impressive Colonial-style mansions and ancient Federal-Georgian buildings.

East Greenwich was the wealthiest municipality in state of Rhode Island and Rocky Hill School was a prestigious private school for the wealthy town residents, but all that money didn't really help them tonight, now did it? He bet they felt like shit losing to a small public school team like the Canes. Heero kind of liked being the underdog. There was, of course, something very gratifying about winning when everyone expected you to lose, especially when coming from such a small, seemingly insignificant, group.

"Too bad your dad wasn't here to see it," Relena commented quietly after a while.

"I guess," he mumbled, still gazing out the window.

"Did you call to tell him about the win?" she asked carefully. Heero didn't answer. He kept looking out the window as they drove down a dark highway, heading back to the ferry terminal at Point Judith.

"My dad was away a lot too," she said after a while, sighing. Heero turned to face her, his expression blank. She sat with her head bowed down, looking down at her French-manicured fingers.

"He used to take me along sometimes... my mother insisted. It was the only way we got to spend time together, but he was always so busy... the only real memories I have of him are of the many idle hours we spent on a shuttle or a plane..."

"My dad never takes me along," Heero murmured quietly and turned back to face the window. "He doesn't like it when I go off-island, even on games."

"Why is it so important that you stay on the island?"

"I don't know," Heero sighed. "He gets all weird when I ask him about it. He just says that there's less of a chance I'll get into trouble if I stay close to home."

"Sounds familiar," she remarked, smiling sadly.

They spent the rest of the ride to the coast in silence. There wasn't much to say; they already seemed to share a wordless understanding. When the bus boarded the ferry, people went to stretch their legs for a bit. They stepped off the bus as well and went to one of the concession stands scattered along the vessel. They were cash-only and Relena was only carrying a damn hundred dollar bill, to which the seller had no change. He ended up treating her to a drink and a snack and she smiled in thanks, promising to pay him back. He mumbled something about how she shouldn't bother, embarrassed all of a sudden because he thought this might count as some form of a _date_. Stupid, huh?

He then helped himself to two hot dogs and a coke. He was starving after a long game. She laughed at his healthy appetite and offered him some of her tortilla chips. They stood by the ferry railing and gazed at the stormy black ocean. Heero could see the battleship sailing the deep waters up ahead. It was very cold and very windy. Their hair flapped wildly with the wind as they leaned on the metal railing, watching the waves shatter against the ferry as it split the sea.

"When's the last time you had a home-cooked meal?" Relena asked timidly; a tone she rarely used.

"I usually order pizza or something," he mumbled and took a sip from his can of cola, gazing out at the sea.

"You should come over for dinner some time," she offered carefully.

Heero turned to study her face quietly, frowning. "At your house?" he asked, a bit appalled by the idea.

She shrugged nonchalantly and turned to look back at the water. "I bet the Help will be happy to finally have someone to cook for... they always complain that I hardly eat. A growing boy's appetite is just what they need."

He snorted at her reasoning. "Well, when you put it that way, _princess_..." he taunted, smirking sarcastically. She laughed, probably realizing how prissy she sounded.

"That came out kind of awful, didn't it?" She smiled blushingly, tucking a long stand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I just think we could both use the company, that's all," she explained, turning to lean over the railing again. She watched the black waves with pensive eyes. "Maybe then the island would feel less like a prison," she whispered miserably.

Heero observed her quietly, his blue eyes gleaming thoughtfully in the dark. Sometimes he felt as though she was giving voice to his deepest thoughts. It was quite unsettling. He just didn't know what to make of her.

"Thanks for coming see me play," he murmured, casting his eyes down awkwardly. It felt like he was thanking her for caring when no one else did.

"Sure," she replied quietly, still gazing at the raging black ocean. "Thank you for letting me."

**To be continued...**

* * *

><p><strong>Your review will be most <strong>**appreciated****.**

**Elle**


	6. Act One - Part 5

**Paradox**

**Act One – Part 5**

September ended and October brought a dense kind of chill to the island. The gray ocean waters seethed raucously, giant unruly waves rising up high and crashing loudly against the coastline. Strong winds howled constantly and heavy rain pummeled the island, beating the soggy green ground ruthlessly.

It was a rainy afternoon. Lightning split the gloomy skies, followed by a rumbling thunder. Rain pounded mercilessly against the timeworn tile roof of their shabby old farmhouse. Heero unlocked the front door and opened it with one hand; his other arm was wrapped around a hefty paper bag full of groceries, holding it against his torso. His hooded shirt and jeans were soaked, as was his hair; he wasn't wearing a jacket. His muddy shoes left stains on the worn hardwood floor as he stepped into an empty house. Relena followed him inside quietly. She was also carrying a grocery bag. Her long blonde hair and elegant light-blue dress were dry aside from a few drops of drizzling rain. Her black knee-high boots were just slightly muddy.

Heero placed the large bag on the floor and turned to take the other one from Relena. After going nearly two weeks without any grocery shopping, he finally decided to stop by the local supermarket on the way from school and get some much needed supplies. He strapped the bags to the companion seat on his bike, covering them with his jacket so they won't get wet as he cycled home through the pouring rain, soaked to the bone. Somewhere down the road, a car honked to get his attention. He stopped, thinking maybe his dad was finally home and heading back from the airport, but it wasn't his dad's red pickup. It was Relena and her driver. She offered him a ride home and he accepted it with gratitude.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he took the second bag of groceries from her, holding it against him. They stood in awkward silence, facing each other. Relena was still standing in the doorway, looking down at the muddy tip of her stylish high boots. She was waiting for him to say something, wasn't she?

"Uh... would you like to come in?" he offered carefully, frowning. She looked up, smiling. She has been waiting for an invitation.

"Sure," she said and stepped inside, looking around. The house was old, but cozy. It was a bit dusty, but not overly messy. He noted how she stared at the open pizza box and soda cans left on the coffee table. He still hasn't accepted her invitation to come over for dinner. She didn't say anything; she didn't raise the topic once since the ferry, but he could tell that she was still waiting for him to accept.

"I, uh..." he found himself stuttering uneasily, "It's okay, I can..." what – cook for himself now instead of eating junk food? Did he really need to tell her that? She'd think he was inviting her for dinner!

"I got the groceries, so..." what – don't worry about me? Why would she worry? Why was he explaining himself anyway!? Shit!

"I... I'll just put these away..." he mumbled and hurried to take the bags to the kitchen, wincing at his own _stupid_ display of nervous teenage behavior. Shit.

He unpacked and arranged the groceries hastily. He could hear her boots tap quietly against the old hardwood floor as she took a look around. For some reason, that made him a bit anxious. He could just picture her running her prissy French-manicured hand over a surface or two, frowning disapprovingly at the dust and wiping it off her delicate white finger with a grimace of displeasure.

"You have a nice house," she said as she stepped into the kitchen, smiling softly. "It has a kind of... charm."

He turned to her, scowling. By "charm" she meant it's old and shabby, right? The roof was leaking, the floorboards were cracked and the steps creaked when you stepped on them... it was a dump that demanded constant maintenance just to keep it from falling apart. His dad bought the cheap foreclosure house with money he had won gambling (up until very recently, his dad was _really_ good at guessing the outcome of _any_ Major League Baseball game; it was uncanny), and took it on as a fixer-upper project. He had helped his dad do some major renovating this last summer, including going up on the roof to fix broken tiles, but now the damn thing was leaking again and he just couldn't be bothered going up there in the heavy rain.

"It looks very... lived-in," Relena said and by that she probably meant "messy", right?

"Feels very homey," she concluded quietly, smiling sadly. "I like it."

"It isn't the Thomson's house, but it's home," he muttered and turned to close the pantry.

"My house feels more like a museum than a home," she mumbled sadly. "A glass prison, really..." she sighed.

"It can't be that bad," he tried to... comfort her? She offered him a small, gracious smile – thanking him for it?

* * *

><p>He served her some hot tea and went to take a shower before he'll freeze to death in his drenched clothes. By evening fall, they had long settled in his room, doing homework together. He felt rather uneasy showing her up to his room, having her step into his sanctuary, but it wasn't so bad. She stood by the door for a moment, taking it all in. He could see her sharp turquoise-blue eyes travel across the blue walls, observing the old-fashioned sci-fi movie posters, the shelves full of comic books and the large MS model collection above his computer work station. He saw a hidden smile hover over her pouty red lips when she spotted Manny by the monitor. He shifted awkwardly in his spot, feeling a bit self-conscious about having his more sentimental side revealed. He was relieved when she tactfully kept her amusement to herself and just kept running her eyes over the room.<p>

His computer was on, an open browser displaying the last website he had visited – one of those crazy underground forums where people shared stories of their "Gundam Sightings", posting blurry photos and stuff like that, trying to capture the elusive and ghostly mobile suits terrorizing the Earth. He wanted to get a good look at one so he could get a basic idea of what it looked like and mimic the design when building his own Gundam model. It would be way easier than getting his hands on an illicit model kit – that much was certain.

If Relena hasn't figured out by now that he was a total _nerd_, getting a quick onceover of his room was the final confirmation. She didn't say anything though, only a small comment about the nice view of the Great Salt Pond seen out his bedroom window.

They sat together on the dark-gray carpet decorating the floor in his room, leaning against his bed as they engrossed themselves in their history textbooks. Their backpacks were laid open on the floor, a pile of notebooks spilling out. A bowl full of Cheetos and another full of potato chips rested between them, along with a couple of open soda pops. He had placed a portable quartz tower heater next to the carpet. It cast a warm orange halo over them both; the orangey light made her hair shine like gold. Rain beat loudly against the window as they worked on their history homework assignment in pleasant silence.

"This is stupid," Relena complained as she turned a page in the book. "They might as well cover whole paragraphs with black ink," she muttered in disdain. "It'll be the same as omitting so many parts of history. Why not give us books about Holocaust denial or creationist nonsense and be done with it!"

"History belongs to the winners," Heero stated simply, his eyes still on the textbook. "Representation of society's flaws and misconduct is downplayed in favor of a more patriotic view... Maybe if OZ wins they'll print a new edition," he muttered dryly; "I bet they're already working on it as we speak..." [[i]]

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I doubt I'll approve of their version of history any more than I approve of this piece of _Alliance propaganda_." She sighed and snapped the textbook shut. "I can't write this essay based on a biased textbook," she muttered disdainfully and placed the book on the floor. She started at it wretchedly for a moment. "My dad had an extensive library collection in his den back home..." she mumbled sadly; "at least his history books didn't lie by omission."

"Don't worry, princess," he muttered sarcastically, "If the Gundams win, the Colonies will print a textbook more to your liking," he snarled cynically; "one detailing _all_ of Earth's wrongdoings."

She laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He smiled a little and cast his gaze down to his book again to hide the undeniable smile.

"Whitewashing is wrong no matter who's doing the censorship," Relena groused bitterly.

"You're putting too much thought into this," he berated; "it's just school. It doesn't mean anything. Just write the damn essay."

"The way facts and history are represented in school influence the interpretation of contemporary thought, opinion and socialization," she informed him in an all-knowing manner; "It's critical at our age. Kids grow up believing this... these _lies_."

"These aren't lies," he countered; "History is subjective. It is structured and biased to meet the needs of the present. It's a bunch of facts mixed together with a good story to meet the ideological needs of a community. The UESA is nothing but a global community imagined by the people who perceive themselves as part of it. This version of history is what binds them together." [[ii]]

"Well, it still feels like a form of _brainwashing_," Relena insisted; "They drill these thoughts into our brains, filling us with patriotism and an inflated sense of righteousness so that we wouldn't mind fighting and dying for our country. It's cruel."

"It's necessary," he countered harshly, his eyes glowering. "People need a reason to fight. They will only sacrifice their lives for things they believe in, and that can only be achieved through education."

"There's more to school than raising future ideologist fighters," she retorted; "People should not be raised to think that it's okay to kill in order to preserve their ideals. There are more peaceful ways to open a dialogue."

"Don't look down on those who are sacrificing everything so that you may sit here in peace and criticize them for killing. They're fighting to sustain your way of life. They're the salt of the earth, protecting the ideals and moral principles they've been taught by the same educational system you're condemning, the same system that raised them to be who they are."

"Yes, but... there must be another way," she protested. "Why should the system support the fighting?"

"It doesn't. It just gives us a reason to fight, by teaching us about our heritage in a way that would make us proud to be a part of it. Those boys are fighting for their home, their families... their heritage. They don't do it for the politicians. They do it because they come from small towns just like this one and they're thinking of home. No matter on whose side they're on – it's the same thing. People fight for their community, for the place they want to belong."

She smiled softly, moved by his insight. She has never heard him speak of anything as passionately as he did now.

"Regardless of its flaws," he said; "a nation is always conceived through a deep sense of comradeship. Ultimately, it's this fraternity that makes it possible for so many people not just to kill, but to willingly die for such an imperfect concept." [[iii]]

"So you're saying that this version of history is _acceptable_?" she marveled, frowning disapprovingly; "That the end justifies the means?"

Heero shook his head. "I'm saying that it's subjective. It doesn't matter what the book says. When it comes down to it, we all share the same set of basic values. Regardless of ideology, this war will end when people on the other side realize that the enemy is after the same thing. Both sides are fighting because of their past and for their future, for the sake of their children and their children's children.

"Earth doesn't have a future without the Colonies, unless it implements some serious population control regulations – and that will never be executed peacefully. The Colonies can't survive without Earth's resources. This co-dependence is what started this conflict, and it will also end it."

She smirked playfully. "I thought you don't follow the course of the war..." she teased and he shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"I don't," he said simply, "I'm not taking sides or anything, and it won't matter if I did, because it doesn't matter who wins – the outcome will be the same. Both sides want the same thing. It's only a matter of who blinks first."

"So this pointless fighting will stop once the people up there realize that we love our children too, so to speak?" she said, smiling warmly at his insightful words.

"Once we all realize we're after the same thing, yes."

"I never thought about it this way before," she whispered, awed. He shrugged, embarrassed, and turned back to his book.

"I heard it in some crappy old war song my dad listened to..." [[iv]] he mumbled. He never thought about it before, but suddenly the song made perfect sense. He probably never would have realized its meaning if he didn't know what family was, what it meant to have something to fight for, to have the kind of life you'd want to defend. He suddenly realized with morbid visceral conviction that he would even go back to the way things were _Before_ to protect this life. He would do that for his dad, for their little family. He would do whatever it takes... even kill again. Odin never gave him a reason to kill; _'just point and shoot'_, he had said. Now he had a good reason to pull the trigger and soil his hands with more blood; he would do it for the same reason those boys were fighting out there – he'd do it for his family. It won't make it any easier; taking a life should never be easy, but at least he will be doing it for a reason, unlike Before.

He shuddered, feeling cold inside, as he often felt when thinking of the lives he was forced to take for no apparent reason. He was so terribly young, but he understood the consequences of his actions. He knew what "kill" and "dying" meant; Odin showed him. He knew that he was a bad, dirty little boy with blood on his hands. He knew he should never tell anyone about the awful things he had done. His father must never know. He mustn't know his son was a killer who killed without knowing why, just because he was told to pull the trigger. He suddenly wondered if Odin had done what he had for a good reason; did the man fight, kill and teach him how to do the same because he loved his children too?

"Heero?" The gentle touch of Relena's hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his dark musings. He looked up, somewhat startled, his body tensing.

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully, withdrawing her hand; "Did I upset you?"

"No... sorry," he mumbled and gazed numbly at the book in his lap. "I was just thinking."

"About your dad?"

"About the song."

"Oh."

Downstairs, the front door opened, creaking and then closing. Hearing it, Heero looked at the bedroom's doorway and frowned cautiously. Relena turned to look at it as well. Someone threw a set of keys against a wooden surface. Heavy boots trudged up the stairs.

"Heero?" His dad called as he walked towards the room. "Are you home?"

A moment later, the man was at the door, peering into the room. He was wearing a grease-covered gray jumpsuit, looking much the worse for wear. His features were gaunt and pale, bearing a week's worth of stubble. A streak of grease was smudged on his left cheek. His braid was disheveled, dangling against his dirty overall. The rich chestnut-brown hair was also soiled with grease. Looking down at the man's hands, Heero noted that there were filthy as well; and his knuckles were bruised. He studied his dad, frowning. What the hell was the idiot doing out there? Was he working as an aircraft mechanic now too, pulling extra hours at the airfield?

"Hey there, kiddo," his dad opened casually with a smile, "I just got ba—" Then, he seemed to realize that there was someone else in the room with him – a _girl _no less_._ He stopped short, stumped, but quickly got his wits back together and offered Relena an awkward smile.

"Uh... hi," he said, surprised, "I, uh, didn't realize Heero had company," he apologized with a guilty smile.

"It's okay," Relena said, smiling respectfully. She rose from the carpet, curtseying slightly; just a small mimic of the gesture. "I'm Relena," she introduced herself. "I moved here a while ago."

"Oh... yeah, I know," his dad mumbled like an idiot; "The old Thomson's house, right?"

"Yes," she nodded to confirm and Heero frowned. Has Duo seen her before?

"Yeah, I helped fly you guys in..." Duo said, looking away uneasily. "You probably don't recognize me from the front..." he joked, chuckling nervously. Relena smiled politely. Heero studied their exchange of words with a wary scowl. His dad was acting all _weird_. Usually he was a much more outgoing and friendly guy. Was it so _stupefying _to come in and see him having a friend over? Or was it because she was a pretty girl?

"Well, uh... welcome to the island," his dad added with a tense smile. "Settled in okay?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied and sat back on the carpet, next to Heero. The two teenagers looked at the man standing awkwardly stiff at the doorway, waiting for him to say something more, or just leave already. When Duo didn't move, just kept staring at them dumbly, Heero's expression hardened into a spiteful glare.

"Anything else?" he asked, annoyed.

"No, I, uh... I'll go get started on dinner..." the man mumbled and left, closing the door behind him stiffly.

Relena chuckled. "Interesting man, your father."

"He's an idiot."

"I think he's rather sweet."

Heero scoffed. "Only _you_ would think that, princess." He rolled his eyes. "He's _embarrassing_."

"I like his hair," she remarked, smirking. "What an unusual choice for a man..."

"Like I said," Heero sighed and picked up his history book; "he's embarrassing."

* * *

><p>Duo made pot-roast for dinner. It was the only good thing he knew how to cook, so he was probably trying to impress. <em>Idiot<em>. They sat in the dining room – Duo sitting at the head of the table and Heero and Relena sitting on opposite sides. His dad had showered and changed out of the filthy jumpsuit and was back in his usual pair of dark jeans and a warm plaid black/red flannel shirt. It would have passed for a handsome masculine look, if not for the ridicules braid dangling across his backside. Heero made a mental note to finally ask his dad about the weird hairdo. It never bothered him this much before, mainly because he was too young to really give it much consideration, but now he was... curious? Or maybe just pissed at how humiliating it was to be associated with such a peculiar man.

The large wooden table felt a bit less empty now that there were three diners, but an awkwardly thick silence still hung in the air, disturbed only by the soft clanking of cutlery. His dad had served each of them a soda, but got himself a bottle of beer; Heero suspected that it wasn't his first drink tonight. He observed the man with obvious disdain as he took a sip out the bottle. His dad never used to drink this much before, but something has changed over the past year. Ever since the war broke out, he's been acting different.

Duo was frowning warily at Relena as he drank. His staring was probably making her uneasy, because she sat with her head bowed down, staring at her plate as she shoved food around with her fork. Damn it. The first time he's ever brought someone home and his dad was acting like a _jerk!_

"When did you get back?" he asked just so Duo would stop staring at his... friend. Yes, friend. Might as well admit it.

"Huh?" his dad turned to him, setting his beer down. "Oh, uhm, just now. Why?"

"You didn't say you were coming."

"This gig got canceled so I came back home. I wanted to surprise you."

"Right," Heero snapped bitingly. "You were working on your plane all day," he accused. "Drinking, right? You're probably here since morning. You could have called," he muttered in dismay.

Relena followed the exchange of words anxiously, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

"What?" Duo sneered; "And ruin the surprise?"

Heero scoffed, irate. "If you wanted to surprise me, you could have come home and go grocery shopping," he replied spitefully.

"Fine, be a dick about it," Duo muttered, rolling his eyes. He sipped more beer, muttering against the bottle: "Big fucking surprise..."

Heero ignored him. Relena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A tense silence fell over the dining room. They ate quietly, focused on their plates and avoiding eye contact. After a few more sips of beer, Duo lowered the bottle a bit and turned to Relena with a wily smile.

"So... when did you two lovebirds start dating?"

"Dad!" Heero exclaimed harshly, glowering at his father with burning blue eyes.

"What?" Duo asked innocently, taunting him; "You always say I'm so God damn _embarrassing_, at least gimme a chance to embarrass you so I could live up to my good name!"

"_Duo_..." Heero hissed a warning under his breath.

"It's okay," Relena smiled politely, turning to face his dad graciously. "We're not dating, Mister Maxwell," she explained calmly. His dad smirked when she called him by his last name.

"We're just friends," she assured him; "Heero helps me with my math studies."

"Oh? Does he now?" Duo mumbled cynically and turned to quirk an eyebrow at his son. Heero glared at him angrily. His whole posture was tense, seething.

"Yes," Relena confirmed; "he's very bright," she added carefully, "Did you know he's taking an AP class this year?" she said in an almost daring manner.

"No... I did not," the man said slowly, frowning at Heero. The boy scoffed insolently, looking away. Of course he didn't.

"I've been trying to convince him to take AP physics as well," Relena elaborated with composure, "he's very good at it."

"And why won't you?" His father turned to ask him, glowering disdainfully.

"Because," Heero mumbled, avoiding his prying eyes.

"Because what?"

"Just because."

"Well, you obviously ain't gonna make it to the _debate team_ this year..." Duo muttered cynically and sipped more beer; "so stick to exact science. Join the damn AP class."

"_You_ join the damn AP class," Heero snapped; "I have enough on my plate right now."

His father snorted dismissively. "You wouldn't know a full plate if it hit you in da _fucking face_," he groused sullenly and slammed his beer bottle on the table.

A tense, angry, silence fell. Relena cast her gaze down anxiously. Heero and Duo glared furiously at each other.

"Thanks a lot, _dad_," Heero droned nastily and slammed his plate on the table while pushing his chair back violently, standing up. Relena raised her head to look at him, obviously troubled.

"Come on," he said while purposely ignoring Duo; "I'll take you home."

She was tactful enough not to remind him that she could simply call her driver to pick her up. She could probably tell he needed to get out of there. She got up slowly, mumbling a quiet "thank you" and the two left the dining room, leaving his father behind, drinking and fuming silently.

They stepped outside into the icy night air and Heero went to fetch his bike, which was leaning against the porch. It has finally stopped raining, but it was still very cold. He regretted stepping out of the house in such a hurry without giving her a chance to grab her coat. She was wearing a flimsy light-blue dress; she must be freezing. Her school bag was still up in his room too. He climbed on his bike and she climbed on the companion seat, leaning closely against him to share some warmth.

"I should go get your coat," he mumbled and prepared to get up.

"No," she whispered, "It's okay."

She understood. Going back was like admitting defeat.

They rode away. Heero cycled as fast as he could, taking his anger and frustration out on the poor pedals as they spun wildly.

"He didn't mean anything by it," Relena offered some careful insight. She leaned in closer against him.

"Yes he did," Heero muttered sullenly; "He thinks I'm an ungrateful _child_."

"He's been working very hard lately, he's tired. I think he just wanted to spend some time with you and having me around kind of threw him off."

"Damn it, princess, why are you defending him?" he asked accusingly.

"Because I know what it's like to resent your father, and I know what it's like to lose a father without ever reconciling these feelings. I regret being such a _brat_, but it's too late to change that. It's not too late for you."

"Who does he think takes care of this _joint_ when he's not around?" Heero grumbled petulantly, almost pouting.

"I'm sure he appreciates what you do."

"No he doesn't. I bet he thinks all I do is hang around all day playing video games! He always looks at me like he's thinking I'm not doing enough, but whenever I _do_ wanna do something – he won't let me!" he called out in frustration, gripping the handlebars angrily.

"Fuck it. I'm done."

"With what?"

"Everything. I don't care. Fuck him."

She sighed, but didn't say anything more.

**To be continued...**

* * *

><p>[i] In episode 19 of the anime, Heero looks up the assassination of the leader Heero Yuy on a colony database in a library, and finds that OZ deleted it.<p>

[ii] Referencing Anderson, Benedict. "Imagined communities." (1983).

[iii] Paraphrasing Anderson, Benedict in p.7 of "Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism." _Nationality and nationalism. London: IB Tauris_ (2004): 293-297.

[iv] This is a reference to Sting's "Russians", a song about the Cold War.


	7. Act One - Part 6

**Paradox**

**Act One – Part 6**

It was raining again by the time they got to her estate on the other side of the island. The two youths were soaking-wet as they stepped onto the mansion's impressive front portico: a wide platform extended as a colonnade with a roof structure over the walkway, supported by beautiful white columns. The old Thomson's house was even more impressive up-close. Heero remember a time when the place was so rundown it had resembled a haunted house. As a child, he enjoyed pretending that it was someplace thrilling and mysterious. One time he snuck inside, just to have a look, and got into trouble because he was caught after triggering the security system alarm. His dad wasn't mad; he just laughed because he found it very funny for some reason.

Once they were at the door and he had seen her home safely, Heero turned to leave. She stopped him, reaching to grab hold of his hand. He tensed, a stupid reflex, and turned back around stiffly. His eyes immediately traveled down her figure. Her light-blue dress was soaked with rain. It clung to her body, accentuating every curve. He swallowed, hard, and tore his gaze away, looking up. She was still holding his cold wet hand.

"You don't have to go home if you don't want to," she said quietly, looking up at him with a pair of intense turquoise-blue eyes. "You can stay for a while," she added carefully, "at least until the rain lets up."

He hesitated, torn between his pride (going home shamefaced because he had nowhere else to go) and his inhibitions (what would it mean – staying with her at _her_ house?). He debated the issue for a while, staring blankly at her expectant blue eyes, and finally nodded his head before he even reached a solid conclusion.

Relena smiled, obviously relieved that he had accepted her offer. Still holding his hand, she guided him into the massive mansion. She wasn't kidding; the place looked more like a museum of fine arts than a home: large portraits decorated the white walls and exclusive artifacts stood in every corner. Everything was either too bright and spotlessly white, or too lavish to be touched. He almost cringed while walking down the white halls as she led him up the grand staircase climbing to the second floor and then down a long corridor until they reached her room. Other than the security at the gate, he didn't spot one person since they entered the large house.

"It's Martha's day off," Relena said as though reading his mind. She stood in front of her room's closed door, holding the handle and smiling at him cunningly. "Too bad," she sneered, "My mother would have _loved_ this." She laughed and he smiled awkwardly. She was making him nervous. He almost regretted accepting her invitation. He must have looked quite aghast, because suddenly she burst out laughing, covering her mouth hurriedly to hide her impolite sniggers.

"You look like you're about to walk into the lion's den!" She laughed and opened the door, "Would you _relax?_ What kind of girl do you take me for?" She shook her head, smiling in amusement. He scowled, not appreciating her laughing at his expense.

"Honestly, Heero, if anyone should have been worried, it was me when you showed me to _your_ room."

"Then why weren't you?" he asked, somewhat defensively. What kind of impotent _dork_ did she take him for anyway?

"Because I trust you," she said simply, shrugging. "You're not like other boys. All they ever seem to think about is how to _cup a feel_," she scoffed.

His eyes darted towards her boobs. He didn't mean for them to do it, they just did. Her light-blue dress was still wet from the heavy downpour they encountered on the way; the fabric clung to her round bosoms. There was fire in his chest again. He hurried to look up again before she'd notice his inappropriate staring.

"...but you're different," she concluded, smiling sweetly. He wasn't so sure about that – he was actually relieved to find out that he wasn't – but he appreciated her faith in him. He walked into her room, looking around. It was more or less what he expected: a huge luxurious bedroom befitting a princess. The only surprise was that he's been expecting _pink_ while the décor was more or less gender-neutral; bland, like the rest of the house. The interior design was lavish, but insipid; it lacked a human touch. Unlike his room, which told volumes of his interests and hobbies, this room was stripped of personality. The only inviting feature in the large room was the large bay window with a cozy window seat facing the ocean; right now, it was overlooking a black abyss. Then there was the bed; a grand queen-size bed in the center of the room, facing a large fireplace and flat-screen TV above it. For some reason, he couldn't stop staring at the large bed.

"I'm going to take a shower," Relena informed him softly. She kept talking, but he couldn't really concentrate because he was still gawking at the bed.

"...get out of these wet clothes," her voice suddenly registered and he realized that she was speaking to him. Tearing his gaze away from the bed, he turned to her. She was holding up a soft white bathrobe, like the ones they gave at fancy hotels. He stared at it blankly for a moment before coming to his senses.

"There's another bathroom down the hall," she said, gesturing towards him with the robe. He then realized just how cold he felt; his clothes were just as saturated as hers. He accepted the robe silently, nodding in thanks.

"Give me your clothes," she said nonchalantly, as though she wasn't even aware of how it all sounded to him. She couldn't possibly be this naïve, right? Or maybe this wasn't such a big deal and he was just a nervous fool.

"I'll put them in the dryer," she explained, waiting.

A look of confusion crossed his face. Was she asking him to undress now, in front of her? No way. Not a chance. He didn't even take his shirt off when he went to the beach during the summer... why would he take it off now? So what if he was a boy, and an athlete... so what! He still had reasons to be ashamed. She'll see the scars. They were terrible, terrible, scars... a badge of shame branding him for life. He remembered how tears had welled in Duo's eyes when he first saw them, when he was just a little boy. Some of them were still rather fresh when his dad first took him in. They never healed; the ugliness was forever etched on his backside. He didn't want her to see. He didn't want anyone looking at him like that again.

"Come on, don't be shy," she urged him gently, looking at him with those intense turquoise-blue eyes of hers... they were irresistible. He didn't want her to think he was shy. He didn't want to be that kind of guy. He didn't want her to think he was afraid. He didn't want to be afraid, to give in to the scars. That was something from _Before_; he should be able to ignore it.

"I'll have them ready for you by the time you're done," she promised, smiling kindly as she waited to receive his wet clothes. He hesitated, nodding slowly. Maybe if he was real careful, never turning his back to her and put the robe on real fast...

He raised his wet hooded pull-over up carefully, sliding it across his smooth chest and pulling it cautiously over his head. His heart pounded, heartbeat racing. He could feel her eyes on him, studying his well-toned abdomen and chest. His hand shook as he handed her the shirt. She reached to take it, but it slipped to the floor. He leaned down instinctively to pick it up and only realized what he had done when he heard her quiet gasp.

He shot back up, his expression mortified.

She saw.

She saw the scarring on his back.

She saw the ugly. His ugly. She saw he was ugly.

The fire in his chest grew wild, consuming him from the inside. The color drained from his face. He stood naked from the waist up, holding his wet shirt, completely abashed. He bowed his head, wishing to disappear.

Relena was quiet, but he knew what she was thinking. He could tell by the silent horror in her eyes that she was piecing the puzzle together wrong, thinking that the display of drinking and insults she has seen between him and his father tonight, combined with alleged signs of neglect, was evidence of something more; something far more demeaning than a few drunken insults. He couldn't let her think that. Duo has never raised a hand against him; never. All his dad has ever done was try to help him forget about these scars, doing whatever he could to heal wounds that could never be healed.

"It's not him," he whispered, casting his gaze down to the floor in disgrace. "It's from... Before," he tried to explain, "...before he took me in."

He dared to meet her eyes again, keeping his head bowed and peeking behind his messy bangs. She was looking at him while holding a hand over her mouth in shock, watching him through a veil of shimmering tears. She was feeling sorry for him. He didn't want her pity.

"I should go," he mumbled, trying to affect an attitude of indifference as he put his shirt back on, wincing at how cold it felt against a skin burning with smothering shame.

"No, Heero, wait... I'm sorry," she hurried to apologize. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... I'm... I'm sorry. I reacted poorly."

"It's okay," he murmured, keeping his gaze cast down to the floor. "I know how bad it looks."

She was quiet for a while, trying to think of something to say. He saved her the trouble.

"I should get going," he said and turned to the door; "It's late."

"Please don't..." she pleaded, moaning miserably; "don't bolt out like this. Heero... please."

He hesitated at the doorway, before finally stepping out of her room. "I... I'll see you at school," he mumbled, and left. He could feel her tearful blue eyes on him as he walked away. His backside was burning; it was nothing like the good burn in his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. It hurt.

* * *

><p>Heero cycled frenziedly down the dark road winding along the coastline, fighting the tears stinging stubbornly in his eyes. He was so angry, so ashamed. He was so <em>stupid!<em> He was so _fucking_ stupid! Stupid for believing he could ever move forward, stupid for believing he could put his past behind him, stupid for pretending like _Before_ never happened! It will always be there – always! Whenever he turns around, it was always right behind. He could never just put it behind him, because it was plastered all over his _fucking backside! _He could never get close to anyone; they will all see it eventually. They will see the ugly. They'll condemn him for all the horrible ugly things he had done. They'll see him for what he really is – ugly.

What did he expect, anyway? This wasn't some_ "boy meets girl and they fall in love"_ kind of thing. It could _never_ be like that. He wasn't just a boy; he was a boy with a past, a boy with blood on his hands and scars on his back. Nothing becoming on a _princess_, that's for sure. He should stay away, and so should she. Everyone should just stay the hell away from him. He didn't need anyone. He didn't. Not his dad, not Relena... not anyone. He didn't need anyone; not if they will all look at him like that once they see the ugly.

He raised a hand up to wipe away the treacherous tears. He never cried _Before_. Duo taught him how to cry. Not right away, but at some point he just started crying. His dad had let the tears loose with hugs and kisses and they haven't quite stopped flowing since. He cried at night as a child, suffering from night terrors. He even wet his bed. He was so afraid, so ashamed... plagued by so many feelings he didn't even know how to describe, but Duo had given them names, little by little, encouraging him to speak about the pain, and he had learned. His father taught him all about the sadness, fear and hurt he felt before teaching him about love, acceptance and trust, until he learned how to cope with the rest.

So why was he crying now? Maybe because he suddenly felt that no matter how far he's come, it will never be enough. In the end, he'll always be the same ugly and filthy little boy he's always been. His dad would argue heatedly against it, but his arguments would be in vain, because Duo didn't know how truly _ugly_ he was inside. He didn't know about the blood; he only saw the scars. His dad thought he was the victim, but in fact he had hurt so many people... He wasn't just a victim, he was also the perpetrator. He had victims of his own.

It started raining again; a soft drizzle that quickly turned into a strong downpour. He rode to the light of the LED flashlight attached to his bicycle, but the bright beam barely penetrated through the dense rain. Thick fog engulfed the island. He could barely see where he was going. He focused on the yellow line painted at the side of the road, following its curves so he won't run off the road and crash into the cliffs below. Wouldn't that be a fitting end to his pathetic existence?

A dim glow appeared within the fog somewhere in the distance. It was hovering high above ground. At first he thought it was the LED light and dark mist playing tricks on him when reflected by the rain, but his LED flashlight was casting a bright yellow light, while the light radiating faintly in the distance was _green_. He stopped, bringing the bike to an abrupt halt. The good burn was back. His heart pounded in his chest. He watched carefully as the eerie green light moved soundlessly through the fog. It was heading towards the cliffs.

He had heard many stories about ghostly lights being sighted on the island, but he had never seen one for himself, and certainly not twice in one month. Eccentric Ghost Hunters often visited the island off-season, when it was almost totally bereft of tourists from the mainland, searching for evidence of paranormal activity. Unlike those obsessed with Gundam sightings, this bunch were nothing but delusional fools. But then how should he explain the odd, flickering green light vanishing and reappearing a short distance from where it had been a moment ago?

At first glance, it looked like an incorporeal glow moving silently through the dense fog; a surreal phosphorescent light that ebbed and waned like a dying flame. Then, it shifted slowly, heading towards him. He gaped in wonder, tilting his head back to look up at the misty green glow approaching without a sound, hovering ghostly above ground. At a closer look, he could make out three sources of light. Their triangular form was something he had never seen before. It looked like a three-eyed beast, a monster with two menacing slanted eyes and another rectangular light hanging above them like a crown-jewel. He sat unmoving on his bike, breathless and gripping the handlebars tightly as he stared at the apparition. It shifted again. Not a sound. It was heading slowly towards the ocean now. It hovered above the cliffs before descending silently into the water. A few minutes later, it vanished completely among the stormy waves as though it had sunk.

Heero couldn't move. Rain pummeled him from above, but he didn't even notice. He stared numbly at the black ocean below, dazed. That was no human apparition, nor was it a ghost ship. But then what was it? How could something so massive move without a sound, like a ghost? Where did it come from? And where did it go?

* * *

><p>He came home real late, cold and dripping water on the hardwood floor. His dad was sitting in the living room watching TV, waiting for him. It was dark; only the TV light flickering across the walls. Duo sat with his feet on the coffee table, sipping a beer. When heard him come in he put the beer down and stood up, turning to him with a guilty face. His hair was wet for some reason, like he had just stepped out of the shower... again?<p>

"Listen, uh," the man began to apologize, looking like a real miserable son of a bitch; "I... I didn't mean what I said earlier."

Heero stared blankly at the puddle of water forming at his feet. His hand was still resting on the door handle.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled quietly and finally let go of the door, letting his hand drop and dangle limply at his side. He turned towards the staircase. "I'm going to bed," he declared tiredly.

"Heero," his father called after him softly, but he wasn't listening. He stopped on the first step, holding the wood banister and staring numbly at the stairway photo gallery. His eyes focused on a picture of his much younger self and his dad. They were standing in front of a green soccer field. He must have been nine or ten. He was wearing team uniform and holding a trophy up to the camera, grinning; a wide toothless smile of a kid who had just won his first sports match. His dad stood with one arm wrapped around him proudly, beaming at the camera. That was a good day. It felt like forever ago.

"Heero, can we just talk... please?" his father asked almost pleadingly. He was still standing in the living room, looking at him with miserable blue eyes. "Let me explain."

Heero was still gaping blankly at the photo. He sighed, tearing his gaze away to look down at his feet.

"I'm tired," he said and continued trudging wearily up the stairs. He entered his room and closed the door behind him. He was too exhausted to take a shower, even though he was so terribly cold. All he wanted was sleep. Still wearing his wet clothes, he sat down on his bed, looking numbly at the floor. Relena's school bag was still laid open on the carpet. He stared at it, feeling... nothing.

His dad knocked softly on his door. "Heero?" he called despairingly from behind the closed door. "I wish you'd tell me what's been going on with you lately. I know I haven't been around much, but I still want to be here for you when I can."

Lying slowly down on his side, Heero curled on the bed and gazed dazedly ahead at the opposite wall.

"Talk to me, Heero, please. Just... Jesus... Just tell me what's going on. Don't shut me out."

Heero lifted the blanket and concealed himself, hiding under the covers. How could he ever tell his father that the life he worked so hard to give him wasn't enough?

His father was still standing behind the closed door. He could enter if he chose to – it wasn't locked – but Duo respected his privacy. Heero knew that his dad wanted him to let him in of his own accord instead of just barging in unwelcomed. There used to be a time, not so long ago actually, when he wouldn't have minded Duo coming in after him; in fact, he would have been disappointed if he didn't answer that childish expectation. The man would sit on his bed and talk softly to him, soothing his distraught spirit. The touch of Duo's warm hand used to be enough to make him feel better, safe. But he wasn't a child anymore. As much as he longed for the physical closeness he had accepted hungrily as a child, he felt that it was no longer appropriate.

Eventually, after a long stretching silence, his dad heaved a frustrated sigh.

"I don't need this shit..." he muttered, "Teenagers are a _fucking handful_..." he grumbled irately under his breath and walked away. Under the covers, Heero closed his tearful blue eyes, trying to ignore the hurt and fall asleep. He dreamt of ominous green eyes moving through the fog.

* * *

><p>By the time he woke up, late into the morning hours, his dad had already left the house. He hadn't mentioned anything about flying off the island today, but even when he didn't have any flights scheduled Duo still hung out with his fellow pilots at the airfield, doing maintenance work and drinking too much beer.<p>

In the very least, the man didn't act as gay as he looked. He was a grease-monkey at heart; a regular Joe who drank too much, played poker and made dirty jokes with _the Guys_. They held a regular poker night at their house, mainly because there was no _'Mrs. Maxwell'_ to bother them. The Guys set his dad up with all sorts of women – mostly at summertime – but his dad always found an excuse to end the date early and never brought a lady home once. The Guys called him _"the eternal bachelor"_, making envious jokes about his freedom to live as he pleased. His dad would laugh along in good humor, but Heero could tell that he didn't appreciate their banter. There was a darkness in his eyes even when he laughed.

Sometimes he felt that his dad was actually a very lonely person, despite his many friends. He'd get all weird sometimes, hugging him and telling him that their little family was all he really needed. He used to appreciate those intimate moments as a kid, but now he could recognize the despair in his father's embrace and it made him feel very uneasy, like he wasn't enough.

Heero didn't bother with breakfast, but he did pay a short visit to the pantry and shoved a couple of salty snacks and two soda-pops into his school bag before leaving the house. He rode his bike to the same spot where he had seen the strange green light last night. He left the bicycle at the side of the road, leaning against a short stone fence, and headed down to the narrow strip of beach below. He had to know what was down there. It wasn't just some faulty weather buoy like the thought last time. It had to be something else. Something... more.

This small beach seemed far more forbidding than his usual spot. It was very rocky, the sand not hardly as smooth as his favorite stretch of beach. Dark rocks peeked out of the shallow water as well. He stood at the center of the narrow strip of sand between the towering bluff and the ocean, looking around. A strong wind tousled his hair wildly, howling in his ears. He thought he heard some leaves rustle behind him. He began to turn and look over his shoulder, but then someone stopped him.

"Don't fucking move," a low male voice hissed menacingly in his ear as an arm wrapped itself around his neck. Another hand shoved a gun into his left temple. He tensed, but didn't make a sound. That burning in his chest was running rampant now; the flames blazing through him zealously. Heero almost smirked. He _knew_ something was up!

"Are you alone?" the voice asked urgently.

"Yeah," he breathed the word out, struggling to speak over the tight stranglehold.

"Expecting any friends?"

"No," he answered firmly.

"No silly beach party or anything?"

He frowned at the unusual question. "No."

"Good," the voice said and then something hard was slammed against the side of his head. He blacked out.

**To be continued...**


	8. Act One - Part 7

**Author's Note:** I can't thank you enough for your reviews and favs. It really means the world to me.

To those of you wondering about Duo's side of the story – I promise that it is right around the corner (Act Two).

Thank you for your readership.

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>Paradox<strong>

**Act One – Part 7**

Heero woke up to the sound of a zipper opening hastily and a splitting headache. He couldn't see. He had been blindfolded; a soft piece of fabric was wrapped tightly around his eyes. He couldn't move either. He was laid against the cold sand, his legs tied together at the ankles and his hands secured tightly behind his back. He wriggled his wrists and fingers a bit. It felt like a thick zip-tie. His hair felt sticky and clotted. He could feel that his head was lying against a bumpy mass of tangled hair and blood. It hurt; his head throbbing terribly. So much for being able to take care of himself...

He blinked against the blindfold and looked down. A thin crack under his nose allowed him a very narrow view of the world. At first, all he could make out was a strip of white, blinded by the light, but after focusing on it for a while and titling his head slightly, he could make out the vague silhouette of a person sitting on the sand a few feet from him. By the sound of it, the man was rummaging through his schoolbag.

"Fuck... please don't tell me school-boy here isn't packing any food..." He heard his captor mumble to himself. He sounded young; caught somewhere between a boy and man. Just like him, it sounded like his voice was still coming out of the annoying voice-break period. His own voice has only recently stabled, really.

"Try the back," he said, thus giving away his conscious state. He didn't think it was relevant. He heard the boy unzip another compartment. He heard the snack wrappers crunch loudly; the boy found what he's been searching for. He also heard him pop open a soda and then slump heavily on the sand with a quiet _'thud'_. He listened to the loud crunching sounds as the boy ate through all two snacks in record time. He must have been famished. He then heard him gulp down the whole can of soda pop and finally release a content sigh.

"Man... that was a _long _time coming..." the boy muttered and threw the can away. Heero heard it land against the hard wet sand.

"Any chance you're carrying some Band-Aids?" The boy asked and even without seeing his face Heero could picture the cynical snarl on his face. For some reason, it made sense that he would be smirking at his own predicament.

"Are you injured?" he asked quietly.

"I'll live."

Heero could see more vague movement through the thin slit under the blindfold. The boy was looking through his school bag again. He pulled something else out, something bulky; a notebook probably. His name and grade were listed on the cover over a small white sticker.

"Heero Maxwell, huh?" the boy remarked, amused for some reason. Heero scowled under the blindfold, not appreciating his cynical tone. He was aware that his Japanese name didn't exactly match his Celtic surname – kids used to tease him about it in grade school all the time – but that was none of that stupid boy's business!

"Yeah, so?" he grunted, annoyed. "Don't suppose _your_ name is any better."

The boy laughed again. There was something very familiar about his laughter. "Probably not," he muttered and shoved the notebook back into the bag.

"Are you a pilot?" Heero asked; too curious to keep quiet even though he probably should. "Are you from that ship?"

"How about you save your breath on those stupid questions and save me the trouble of coming up with a proper lie?"

"Are you Alliance or OZ? Did you crash? Why are you on the island?"

"Seriously, dude, shut up. Please don't make me kill you... I ain't in the mood to kill any little boys today."

"I don't think you're any older than I am," Heero replied calmly. "And you won't kill me."

"Oh yeah?" The boy laughed at his arrogance. "What makes you so sure?"

"Cuz otherwise you would have done it by now."

"Oh, a _smartass_, are you? Great, just my luck!" He grunted and then coughed, letting out a pained groan.

"How bad is it?" Heero asked quietly.

"None of your damn business, kid."

"I can help."

"Sure you can," the boy muttered cynically. "All I haffta do is let you go, right? Yeah, that ain't gonna happen."

"So what are you going to do with me?"

"Dunno. Haven't figured it out yet."

"You could let me go. I didn't see your face."

"And you ain't gonna."

The boy fell quiet. For a while, all Heero could hear were the waves and the boy's quiet, shallow, breath; he was in pain. He tried to think of something else to say, something that would gain the boy's trust, but he came up empty. He sighed and slumped his restrained body against the moist cold sand. His limbs were beginning to ache, the cold causing his muscles to cramp. This was going to be a _long_ day...

"How bad does the tide get on this beach?" The boy suddenly asked.

Heero didn't like where this was going. "I don't know," he said warily; "why?"

"High tide ain't till evening fall, right?"

"I guess. Are you going to leave me here?"

"Yeah, guess so. You better pray to your lucky stars that someone finds you before the tide comes."

"No one really comes out here."

"Then pray that the tide ain't gonna flood the whole beach." And with those words, the boy left.

* * *

><p>He must have dozed off despite the biting cold – surely the effects of a concussion – because suddenly he woke up with a start to the freezing touch of water washing back and forth over his legs. His feet were completely submerged, the water reaching up to his ankles. Alarmed, he jerked fully awake, looking anxiously through the blindfold. He could no longer see the faint glare of daylight filtering through the dense black fabric. The light had dimmed significantly. The sun was setting and the high tide was rising, fast.<p>

He wriggled his numb arms and legs, thrashing against the cold sand, but to no avail. The plastic zip-ties weren't budging. Instead he pushed with his legs and moved, crawling against the cold sand and hoisting himself up the beach to get away from the freezing water. He was buying time, but chances were slim that anyone will be coming around this deserted beach.

His dad certainly wasn't coming. The man was used to him coming home late, wandering around... doing whatever. He doubted Duo even knew about his favorite spot on the island, where he spent most of his free time. His father didn't even call once; his cellphone has been completely silent in his pocket all day long. He considered trying to retrieve it somehow, but that seemed impossible.

If he was lucky and his dad was home for a change, then he would probably realize something was wrong when he won't see him in the morning. That is, if he would bother checking. Heero always slept with his bedroom door closed and Duo was usually out of the house before he went downstairs in the morning. They hardly saw each other anymore. Like most teens he was growing apart from his parent, seeking independence. His father let him be, which he appreciated on most days, but today he wished more than anything that his dad would notice his absence and start worrying. If he took much longer to notice, it would be too late.

* * *

><p>Nightfall consumed the narrow beach in a freezing cloak of darkness. The tide has covered most of the shore. He had crawled against the sand as far as he could go, until he reached the cliffs. Using the cliff-face as leverage, Heero pushed his back against it and rose to his restrained feet, groaning at the strain. He leaned against the cold rock-face and stared unseeingly ahead through the blindfold.<p>

No one was coming for him. He had to pull himself up by his bootstraps and find a way out of this mess.

With his hands tied behind his back, Heero felt around the gravelly surface until his fingers brushed against a sharp ridge sticking out of the rock face. The water now reached as high as his knees. Desperate, he moved his wrists frantically against the sharp rock until the plastic zip-tie was caught on the ledge. He began rubbing anxiously, trying to wear the plastic down. It was taking forever. His hands kept slipping off the small rock; he was trembling strongly from the cold. He cut himself badly but kept going. The wounds stung under the cold salty water.

He was up to his waist with water. He wasn't going to make it. He had to break his hands free before he could do the same for his legs and by then the water will be too deep. He will drown before he'll get out of these bonds. He should have thought about this hours ago! Why did he let himself fall asleep? Why did he let himself get into this sticky situation in the first place!

It was so cold. The ocean water was freezing. He could no longer feel his leg. His hands were also submerged, but still he kept grinding them against the sharp rock. The zip-tie refused to give. He stopped rubbing his wrists against the rock. There was no point. The plastic fastener was too thick and flexible. It wasn't breaking.

He stood leaning against the cliff, his bleeding hands pressed between his back and the rock, and turned to gaze blindly at the ocean that was about to swallow him. It was so cold... Even if the water will stop rising, he will still die of hypothermia in a matter of hours.

Tears flooded his eyes behind the blindfold. He blinked and they spilled; warm droplets sliding down his scratched cheeks. For some reason he thought about the pictures his dad hung on the staircase wall; a stairway photo gallery that told their shared story, eternalizing so many happy memories. He walked past those pictures at least two or three times a day, but he found it hard to recall each one. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, trying to summon the images.

There was the one from when he had won his first soccer match; his dad had been so proud. There was one taken in front of the Statue of Liberty from when they took a trip to New York City one Christmas when he was twelve. It was a funny picture because a second after some lady took it for them a pigeon flew by and pooped on Duo's head! He laughed at the memory, a chuckle escaping his frozen lips despite his grim predicament.

There was another funny photo. One of him, no more than ten years old, seated behind the helm of his dad's Cessna. The headset and sunglasses his dad had put on him were too big, sliding down his head and nose, covering his eyes. His dad thought it was a really cute picture so he hung it on the wall.

Another photo he recalled was of the two of them on the beach one summer, back when he didn't mind hanging out with his dad all day long; that kind of stopped when he had turned thirteen. His dad must have asked someone to take a picture of the two of them by the water. They were both very tanned, wearing matching baseball caps and holding ice-cream cones as they smiled widely at the camera. That was also a good day.

There were so many good days, so many memories. One stairway wall was not enough to portray the good life he has had the privilege of living thanks to his dad. They didn't have a lot, but they had each other and that used to be enough.

He's been such a douche to Duo lately... he was so sorry. He didn't mean to be this way. He didn't give him attitude on purpose... it just happened. Now the last memories his dad would have of him will be of endless arguing and doors slammed in his face. He didn't want to die without telling his dad how sorry he was for being such a dick. He loved his father, real or not; all they really had was each other. Now he was going to die here and then his dad would truly be alone. Duo won't even have their little family to comfort him anymore. That wasn't fair! Heero wished so much his dad was here right now to fix everything, like he always did. Duo could always make things better. He was so sorry for taking it for granted. He didn't want to go out like this... He didn't want Duo to be alone... He didn't want to die!

The freezing water were now touching his chin.

"Dad..." he cried in trembling voice, feeling small and helpless; a child. A stupid child! He was so stupid. Coming out here was so stupid! Searching eagerly for danger was stupid. Now his dad will be the one to feel like he wasn't enough and that wasn't true! It wasn't true at all! His dad was everything to him. He had raised him, salvaged his childhood and filled it was so many wonderful things, so many wonderful moments. He deserved better than to be abandoned like this... he was so – so! – sorry!

"Dad!" He cried out, tilting his head up to the heavens. The icy ocean water surrounded his face. He will be underwater in a matter of minutes. He rose on his tiptoes, trying to buy a little more time. He wished he could see the stars, but the blindfold was still firmly in place. The cold water overflowed above his head, covering his face. He squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. Time to pay up for the all wrong he had done, for all the times he had pulled the trigger without question.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered and salty cold water poured into his open mouth. He coughed, gurgling and sputtering salty water. "I'm so sorry, daddy..." he wept and let go, allowing his body to slump and sink into the water. There was no point holding on anymore. He deserved this; it was okay... dying would be okay, a fitting punishment. He should let go.

A pair of hands thrust into the water, grabbing him under his armpits and hoisting him up to the surface. He coughed water out loudly, gasping for air.

"Heero," a familiar voice called his name anxiously. "Hold on," it urged him and he felt himself being pulled up into an embrace.

"D-Duo..." he whispered, relieved; "Dad... you came..." he mumbled hazily as the strong arms lifted him out of the water. He fainted.

* * *

><p>When Heero didn't come to school that morning, Relena was a bit worried. She had spent the whole school day sending fretful glances towards his empty desk. She felt guilty about last night; she had chased away her only friend on the island. It was such a stupid slip of the tongue. Her father would have been terribly disappointed in her for behaving so undiplomatically. She should have been able to contain her shocked response; it should have been obvious that Heero carried a burden as horrible as the story behind the scars on his back. He was a deeply troubled boy; distant, disheartened and frail even, all for a good reason. Now she knew what that reason was. She wanted to make amends for hurting his feelings.<p>

She waited all afternoon to see if he would join the team for soccer practice, but he didn't show up then either. Then she became really worried, feeling that she shouldn't have let him leave in the middle of a rainy night. What if he never made it home? What if something happened to him on the way?

After school, she asked her driver to take her to Heero's house. His bike wasn't in its usual place by the porch. His dad's red pickup wasn't there either. No one was home.

She tried Heero's beach next. The sun was already setting into the ocean, sending faint golden rays of light towards the flaming cliff-face. Standing on the edge of the tall bluffs, she looked down at the panoramic beach below, trying hard to see under the illusive twilight. There was no sign of Heero or his bike. Dispirited, Relena got back in the car. Heading further down the road towards her home, she wondered where Heero could possibly be.

Darkness masked the view of the ocean. She looked out the backseat window, gazing wretchedly at where the headlights illuminated the side of the winding ocean road before the light was swallowed by the endless black. Then, just a couple of miles away from Heero's beach, she spotted his bike at the side of the road. The headlights touched them for only a second, but she recognized them in heartbeat. They were leaned against a short stone fence. She asked her driver to stop and back the car.

Stepping out of the luxury vehicle, the howling wind tousled her long hair wildly, lifting her dress. She pushed the bellowing fabric down with both hands, looking around nervously. She was standing close to the fence. Beyond it, the ground dropped steeply towards a raging black ocean.

"Heero!" she called over the wind. "Heero!"

Only the rustling waves answered her call.

"He must be down there!" She moaned, turning around to face the car. Her driver had also stepped out of the car and she turned to him in desperation.

"He could be injured," she cried. "We have to get down there!"

"It's too dangerous," her driver said, pulling out a cellphone from his suit's pocket. "I'll call nine—"

A dirty hand flung up from the chasm, grabbing the edge of the cliff. It was joined by another filthy and bloody hand. Both Relena and her driver watched, stunned, as a figure pushed itself up shakily from the abyss and crawled onto the small patch of ground just behind the fence.

"Heero!" Relena called out in relief and hurried to climb over the fence so she could get to him. The boy was standing supported on all fours, his arms and legs trembling strongly. He kept his head bowed towards the ground, panting loudly; his wild bangs flapping strongly with the wind. His blue jeans and jacket were soaked with water and smudged with dirt. There was blood clotted in his hair, as well as around his wrists.

"Heero! What happened?" Relena asked as she took a knee next to him, placing a gentle hand over his trembling back. "Did you fall? Are you okay?"

He coughed, struggling to catch his breath. Groaning, he pushed off the ground with both hands and turned to sit. When he finally raised his head towards her, she gasped, shocked at the sight of his bruised face and blood-clotted hair. The left side of his head seemed to have taken quite a blow.

Heero blinked, blinded by the headlights pointed at him, and raised a filthy hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. She noted the red and bloody welts around his wrists, where his wet jacket no longer covered pale skin. There were gory scratches as well, as though he had rubbed his wrists against something sharp and muddy, like a rock. She turned to him, alarmed.

"Heero, what happened?"

"I fell..." he mumbled, coughing quietly as he struggled to catch his breath. Relena studied him pensively. A fall could account for the injuries on his head – he could have blacked out from the fall and woke up to the tide – but what about the welts around his wrists?

"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly; "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah... I..." he slurred dazedly, his teeth chattering. He was trembling, cold. She had to get him out of the freezing wind.

"Come on," she said and wrapped her arms around him, helping him up. They made their way slowly over the stone fence.

"We'll take you to the medical center. You need help."

Heero shook his head weakly and pulled away. "No... I'm... I'm okay. J-just... Just t-take me home... please."

She studied his face closely, feeling torn. She wanted to help him; she just wasn't sure how.

"Maybe we should call your dad," she offered carefully.

"No," he said sternly and lifted his bike away from the fence. He held onto the handlebars tightly, staring at the gory welts around his wrists. "It's okay," he mumbled dazedly; "I'm okay."

He turned his bike towards the road, but she stopped him, placing a hand on the stem.

"Alex can put those in the trunk for you," she said softly. "Come on," she whispered, smiling warmly and gently pried his fist off the handlebar. "We'll take you home."

She walked him to the car. His movements were stiff, painful. He settled heavily into the backseat, moving carefully. He sat down, keeping his head bowed low. Her driver put his bicycle in the large trunk and walked back into the car, driving off. Relena observed Heero worriedly as they drove into town. He didn't say anything more, just kept looking at his bloody fingers with a pair of numb and empty blue eyes.

* * *

><p>When they pulled into the small driveway in front of the modest old country house, Heero didn't spot Duo's red pickup at the front. His dad wasn't home yet. He felt disappointed, but maybe it was for the best.<p>

He stepped out of the car mumbling a quiet "thanks" and closed to the door behind him. He limped towards the trunk and pulled out his bike with great effort; every muscle in his body was cramped and aching. Using the bike for support, he made his way slowly to the house one painful step at a time, rolling the bicycle with him.

Relena's car didn't drive off yet and he could feel her worried eyes on his aching back. He stopped by the front porch, laying his bike against the stairs leading up to the house. He turned to the car, his eyes searching for the backseat window. He gave a small wave for goodbye, trying to smile a little despite the agony pulsing in his bloody and cut-streaked face. A moment later, the car pulled out of the driveway. Heero watched it speed down the dirt road and into the night. He fished a set of keys out of his soaking-wet jeans and entered the house.

He wasn't sure how he got out of the water. He thought maybe his dad came for him – he could have sworn he had heard his voice – but when he woke up on a small shelf of rock bulging out of the bluff, he was alone. Someone had cut the zip-ties to free his limbs and left him there, safely above water level. It couldn't have been his dad, because Duo would never leave him there like that. He assumed that the mysterious boy came back for him, but he could not fathom why. Why leave him for dead and then rescue him?

He was rather thankful that his dad wasn't home. Had he been there Heero probably wouldn't have been able to control himself and would have done something embarrassing like _hug_ the man the minute he saw him. That would have turned on a few red lights and Duo would have started fretting again, fussing over him and asking too many questions. It was probably for the best that his dad was out tonight.

That in itself was strange, because unless he was working off-island, his dad was usually home at night, making dinner, folding laundry and stuff like that. His father always complained that he didn't help enough around the house. The place was always so damn dusty and messy, he groused, and the least he could do was clean up after him and stop leaving empty snacks, crumbs and soda-pops all around the house. The asshole easily forgot that _he_ did most of the house chores and he never once complained. He was used to it. He had spent half his childhood following orders, and household chores were just a few out of many. He performed his tasks around the house quietly and dutifully; maybe that's why Duo found it so easy to forget who took care of things while he was away.

Everything hurt as he made the climb upstairs to his room, stepping slowly and leaning heavily against the banister for support. He stopped for a moment, gazing at the photo gallery on the wall. He ran his eyes over every picture, committing it to memory so next time he won't forget. His gaze stopped to focus on the picture of him and his dad after he had won his first match. They looked so happy; and that was saying a lot considering it was taken merely two years after Duo took him in. In two short years his dad managed to take a reserved, frightened and desolate little boy and turn him into a kid who cared enough to give his best out on the playing field, feel his chest swell with pride at the victory and smile beamingly at the camera while hugging his dad tightly. Love was a powerful force. Duo's love saved him. He was such an ungrateful bastard, wasn't he? Always searching for something _more_. This life should be enough. It was more than he could have ever hoped for, so why was he so eager to toss it away?

Sighing, Heero turned away from the photo and plodded up the stairs. He took a long hot shower and washed the blood off his hands, watching the red water circle down the drain. Something inside him numbed, turning cold. The feeling of blood on his hands... the guilt... it was so overwhelming that he simply shut down. An emptiness crept inside; familiar and cold. He dressed his own wounds – something he hasn't done since he was little – staring blankly at his handiwork through glassy blue eyes.

* * *

><p>Heero woke up the next morning with a congested nose and a sore throat. Feeling a fever coming on, he took a couple of cold-medicine pills and walked down to the kitchen. His dad wasn't home, but that wasn't unusual at this late morning hour. He made himself a hot cup of tea, gazing numbly out the kitchen window overlooking the Great Salt Pond. It was a cloudy day, but it wasn't raining for a change. He stared at the large bay until his vision blurred. He wasn't really looking at the view. That boy was still out there. He had to find him. He had to know why he came back for him.<p>

Opening a drawer, Heero picked out a large and deadly-looking kitchen knife. He studied the knife with numb blue eyes, turning it until it caught the light from the window, gleaming. He won't be going in unprepared this time.

He tucked the knife into a strap he had tied above his right ankle. He recalled this feeling, the cool touch of a weapon against his skin. This was how life _Before_ felt like: hard, cold, heartless – nothing burned.

He left the house and got on his bike, heading back to the rocky beach.

* * *

><p>He left his bike by the stone fence at the side of the road and climbed over the hedge. He walked to the precipice, looking down at the beach. Surprised by what he saw there, he quickly hunched down low, throwing himself to the grassy ground. He crawled carefully towards the edge of the cliff, hidden by the tall blue-grass, and took a closer look.<p>

Soldiers were scouting the small strip of beach. He spotted a large combat-rubber-raiding-craft waiting by the water – they came from the battleship!

A middle-aged man in officer uniform stood by the raft, observing his troops. Heero recognized his dress uniform as OZ. A low-ranking soldier approached the CO, reporting something to him. Heero could just barely make out the words carried by the wind:

"Any word from the inland team?" the CO asked.

"We traced rumors of the sightings to the airfield," his subordinate replied; "Recon team also came up empty, sir. They're heading back now."

Heero frowned warily. The airfield? That thing he saw last night came from the airfield?

"Alright, pack it up. We're done here. Let's not overstay our welcome, Private."

"Yes, sir."

He watched the troops pack up their gear, clearing any evidence of their stay on the beach and loading it onto the raft. Something rustled behind him and Heero quickly turned back around, rolling over on the grass and straight into a rifle's barrel pointed at him. He gasped quietly, his eyes darting up. Five OZ soldiers stood towering over him, fully geared and armed.

That would be the inland team, he realized with a weary sigh. He raised his hands up slowly in a gesture of surrender. This was going to be another _long_ day...

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>


	9. Act One - Part 8

**Act One**

**Part 8**

The recon team dragged him down to the beach and ushered him to their CO at gunpoint. The man wasn't pleased by the intrusion. He was cuffed, searched – his knife apprehended – and was then forced to board the raiding raft along with the rest of the troops.

"Wait, you can't just—" he protested but then a soldier pointed a gun to his head and he fell silent. Two other soldiers pushed the raft back into the water and jumped on board. They sailed away, heading for the battleship waiting in the near horizon.

He gaped in wonder at the massive ship as they approached. It rose at least ten stories high above sea level. The raft was hoisted up with cables. As they neared the top deck, Heero could see the menacing heads of at least a dozen mobile suits – Aries and Leo models. He watched, awed, as more and more of them was revealed as the raft was pulled up to the deck. He was yanked up to his feet, his hands still cuffed behind his back, and was forced to march down the flight deck. He looked up at the massive mobile suits as he was guided by two soldiers walking behind him with guns loaded. The suits were _huge_. He has never seen one up close. There was this one time – _Before_ – but he was never this close. The fire in his chest sparkled back to life. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the powerful machines.

He was brought below deck, ushered through narrow metal corridors until they shoved him into a small room with a table and two chairs; an interrogation room. He was pushed forcefully into a chair and his hands were freed from behind his back before they were chained to a hook at the center of the table. The soldiers left, slamming the door behind them. Silence fell.

Heero looked around the featureless room: gray walls, no fixtures aside from another chair opposite of his. He waited, staring blankly at his cuffed hands.

Nothing happened for about an hour or so. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table, losing his cool. How long will they make him wait? What were they going to do with him?

Finally, the door opened again. Heero looked up and saw a man walk into the room, carrying a cardboard dossier. He was a tall man, dressed in elite OZ uniform: a red military tailcoat, white slim-fitted trousers and shiny black knee-high boots. A cascade of lush platinum blond hair bounced against his back as he marched inside. And, if the long hair wasn't weird enough, he was wearing a helmet-like silver mask. What the _fuck?_ Was this some kind of sick psychological-torture thing, trying to make him feel intimidated or whatever, because in all honesty – he was doing his best not to snigger.

The high-ranking officer pulled out a chair and sat down in front him. The man placed the dossier on the table and turned to him, studying his face quietly behind the eerie mask. He could see his eyes through the eye-holes; they were a cold cerulean-blue. Sharp, like a blade.

"I am Colonel Zechs Merquise and I am the commander of this vessel. State your name, please," the man requested coldly. His tone was calm, quiet... unsettling. He sounded young.

"Uh, Heero... Heero Maxwell," he replied uneasily, trying not to fidget under the man's unnerving gaze. He usually wasn't this nervous, even under pressure, but there was something about this young man that made him... anxious. Maybe it was the mask. It was freaky. He no longer felt like laughing.

"Is that your real name?" the officer asked sternly and Heero frowned at the odd question. Why would he ask such a thing? What did he know?

"Is Zechs Merquise your real name?" he retorted, trying to affect a cold sneer of insolence. It helped him keep his cool even though he was faltering under the stress. He was in big trouble, wasn't he? This wasn't like getting caught breaking into the old Thomson's house; this was some serious shit.

The man's lips quirked into a dark smirk; he seemed amused by his attempt at impudent indifference.

"How old are you, Heero?"

"Fifteen," he replied truthfully. It would be best not to lie unless he absolutely had to. Odin had taught him that. The truth was preferable, he had said; when used correctly, it was much more efficient than a lie.

"Why weren't you at school then?" Col. Merquise asked, snarling coldly behind his mask.

Heero shrugged dismissively.

"It's boring," he said.

The officer leaned forward, placing his hands on the table and entwining his white-gloved fingers firmly.

"What were you doing at that beach, Heero?"

"I like hanging out at the beach," he replied evenly, looking into the man's eyes through the strange mask. He did his best to keep his facial features hard; expressionless.

"Yes, I know," the colonel confirmed his claim and leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Four miles down the road," he added cagily; "Where the cliffs look like they're on fire. I've seen you frequent that beach, along with the Darlian girl. Why were you at a different beach today?"

"Have you been watching me?" he wondered out loud, the words slipping from his mouth without care. He then remembered that the battleship appeared by the island just when Relena showed up. He frowned warily.

"Or are you tagging _her?_" he asked, scowling; "Why are you here? Why Block Island?"

"What were you doing on the beach, Heero?" the colonel ignored him and repeated the question.

He chose his words carefully and then replied: "Ghost hunting."

Zechs heaved a quiet sigh. "I am not a very patient man, Heero," he warned. "My time is valuable. I suggest you answer my questions truthfully."

"I am."

"Why were you carrying a weapon?"

"It's a_ kitchen_ knife," Heero grumbled petulantly.

"Knives kill."

Heero kept quiet. He cast his gaze down, staring silently at his restrained hands. Annoyed with him, the man reached to grab his cuffed hands and tore off the bandages from his wrists.

"How did you procure these injuries?" he asked sternly, tugging his cuffed hands forcefully.

Heero didn't even wince. He turned his glowering eyes to glare at brazenly at the officer. "Rock climbing," he said in a deadpan voice.

"Don't test me, boy," Zechs warned, jerking his hands roughly. "The bruising on your face – how were you injured?"

He cast his gaze down for effect and mumbled: "My dad drinks too much." It wasn't a lie, and the implications might work in his favor.

The masked man studied him tensely, trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. He wasn't buying it, so Heero turned around slowly, as much as the restraints allowed him, and presented his back to the man. He waited anxiously. The officer stood up and circled the table briskly. He grabbed Heero's hooded shirt at the bottom and yanked it up, exposing his scarred backside.

Heero grimaced, closing his eyes shamefully as the man studied the scarring quietly for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Zechs heaved a long sigh and pulled the shirt back down. He went back to his chair and Heero turned to face him again keeping his gaze downcast.

The officer reached for the file folder he had placed on the table earlier and opened it. He pulled out a photograph and shoved it across the table so Heero could see. He looked up, studying the photo mutely. It was a picture of an Asian boy about his age – dead and blue, lying on a metallic autopsy table.

"Do you know this boy?" The colonel asked after letting him examine the photo quietly. Heero gaped numbly at the photo.

"No." He finally stated and raised his head to glare at the officer. "I don't."

"This boy died four months ago fighting an OZ convey on the Siberian plane," the man informed him hardheartedly.

"Did you kill him?" He couldn't help but wonder.

The officer ignored the question. "He was piloting a winged Gundam," he said as he placed the photo back in the dossier. "Imagine our surprise when we discovered that the pilot was no more than a_ boy_... your age. I believe that he was also named Heero."

"It's a popular name," the boy pointed out dryly.

"Yes, especially in space."

"So now you're going after every fifteen-year-old named 'Heero' on the planet?" he retorted nastily, scoffing. The officer stared him down firmly.

"Only the ones who hack into the UESA intelligence database in one afternoon," he retorted and drew another photo from the folder, holding it in front of Heero. It was a surveillance camera picture from the public library, showing Relena and him in front of a computer.

Heero grimaced and looked away, feeling stupid. He never accounted for the surveillance cameras... that was stupid. Odin taught him better than that! Seven years living with Duo and he forgets all about the basics? What an embarrassing amateur mistake!

"You're quite skillful," Zechs remarked coldly. "Care to tell us why you're working with the Darlian girl?"

"...I was only doing her a favor," he mumbled and looked away, losing his confidence. He was in over his head, wasn't he?

"Hacking into a government database is quite the favor," the man pointed out sternly. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Heero frowned, confused. "Friends, I guess..." he mumbled, shifting uneasily in his seat; "We hang out."

"And your intentions towards her?"

Heero looked up again, scowling. What the fuck? Was this man going to give him the big _"what's your intentions towards my daughter"_ speech? Seriously?

"I don't see how that's any of OZ's business," he replied coldly, lifting his chin up spitefully. "If it's high school drama you're after, then you definitely have the wrong kid."

"You know who she is," the colonel claimed boldly.

"I know who she _thinks_ she is."

"Did you report your findings to your superiors?"

"What _superiors_?" Heero snarled rudely.

"Did you tell anyone about her? Were you asked to protect her?"

"No... What do you want from me anyway? You can't just kidnap American citizens as you please!"

"You'd be surprised at how wide OZ's jurisdiction can be." Zechs smirked behind the mask. "You see Heero, I would very much like to believe you that you're just some kid and that this is all a _big mistake_ that's going to cost me my job when your government finds out we've detained you, but so far you haven't managed to convince me that you're as innocent as you claim."

"Circumstantial evidence," Heero muttered irately. "You got nothing on me."

"That's because there isn't much to get," the officer replied smoothly, leaning casually into his chair and crossing his legs. "Tell me, Heero, where did you and your father live before coming to the island seven years ago? Because from what I could gather, you two just appeared out of thin air one day."

Heero glared at him fiercely, trying to mask his inner turmoil. If he told the man that they were from space it would only serve to incriminate him further. He knew his dad had built a sketchy background story, leaving a trail of papers, but he never asked what it was! Duo never told him what to say if anyone asks; he just instructed him to avoid the subject altogether. His dad never took into account that he might be interrogated by OZ one day, and why should he? Damn, but he was in some deep shit! He had to get out of here...

His gaze traveled down to the man's sidearm, tucked into a holster around his waist. If he could somehow get out of these cuffs... no, that wasn't possible. Maybe he could lure the man closer and flip the table over to knock him out... no, that won't work either because of that damn helmet! He was out of options. It didn't matter anyway. Killing the man would accomplish nothing; it would only get him into more trouble.

"Have you been training on the island?" Col. Merquise demanded to know; "is your dad actually your CO?"

Heero almost laughed. Oh, Duo would _love_ that! Then he could _really_ boss him around!

He tore his gaze off the weapon and turned to the masked man, smirking impishly.

"He's just my dad."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," the officer muttered.

"That would be your problem, not mine."

"Where did you stash your suit, Heero?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We saw it go into the water the other night," the officer informed him heatedly; he seemed to have finally lost his cool. "Is it at the beach? Buried underwater?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Then you're an idiot."

"We already have the Winged Gundam. We know these suits can avoid radar and function underwater. It's only a matter of time before we find your suit as well. I have Pisces and Cancer suits scouting the water as we speak. We'll find your Gundam."

"Good luck with that, because I don't have one. I don't know anything about any _Gundam_."

"I think you do," Zechs insisted. "We've intercepted some of your internet traffic. The word _'Gundam'_ has been coming up a lot lately, as well as MS design specs. You've been searching for parts, haven't you? Trying to fix your own suit."

Heero couldn't help himself, he laughed in the officer's face. "Yeah, sure..." he snickered cynically; "Model kits... I like building MS _model kits_."

Even with the eerie mask, the man seemed stupefied.

"Gundam model kits?" he mumbled, bemused.

"Yeah... sort of," Heero muttered disdainfully. "They're pretty hard to come by so I've been trying to get all sorts of parts to build my own model. That's why I was looking at specs."

The officer sighed and sunk into his chair. "Toy Gundams..." he muttered in dismay.

"Model kits," Heero corrected defensively.

"Right," Zechs sighed, shaking his head. He stood up and collected the photos from the table, placing them back in the folder.

"You can lie all you want, boy, but I know you were storing it in the airport hangar."

An image popped into his head: his dad standing at his bedroom doorway with a jumpsuit all covered in grease. He frowned. What did this mean?

The masked OZ officer was still talking:

"...We couldn't do much about it while it was on the island, but now that you've hidden it under water, I _will_ find and procure your suit. I'll drag it all the way across the maritime border if I must."

"You can try," Heero grunted insolently, "But I'm not hiding anything."

"I doubt that," Zechs stated coldly and walked to the door. Opening it, he turned to the guard standing outside and said:

"Put him in the brig."

"Hey!" Heero shot up from his chair, yanking his cuffed hands against the chain holding him to the table. He coldly glared at the officer's stiff backside.

"You can't do this," he called; "I'm telling you – you have the wrong guy!"

The colonel stood at the doorway for a moment, his back turned to Heero, but he didn't say anything. Eventually, he left. Two soldiers walked in after him and took Heero away.

* * *

><p>Sitting in his wide and lavishly furnished quarters, Colonel Zechs Merquise sat at his desk, watching a monitor displaying CCTV feed from the brig. His mask rested on the table in front of him. He watched with a pair of sharp cerulean-blue eyes as two soldiers escorted the boy, Heero, into a cell and locked him behind bars. The boy stood in the middle of the cell, somewhat dazed, before he sat down on the cot and just gaped dully at the bars in front of him. Zechs frowned, waiting to see what he would do.<p>

The cabin door opened and in walked a female officer in dress uniform similar to his own, only her tailcoat was navy-blue. She approached his desk, scowling angrily.

"You locked him up!?" she asked admonishingly.

"Yes," Zechs replied calmly, still looking at the monitor.

"What the hell for?" she demanded harshly.

"I want to see what he's going to do about it."

"What _can_ he do about it? He's just a kid for crying out loud."

He turned to her, smiling sadly. "They're all _just kids_, Noin."

Lieutenant Lucrezia Noin sighed and took a seat on the sofa opposite to the desk. She crossed her legs and her arms, looking at him closely. "You really think he's one of them?"

"I'm not sure yet," Zechs admitted and turned back to the monitor, looking warily at the boy; he still hasn't moved.

"But there's something... _off_ about him," he said, frowning. "Any normal kid would have been scared." He turned to Noin, his blue eyes burning intensely. "He isn't scared. If anything, he was agitated, angry at his own helplessness. Did you see how he was eyeing my sidearm? He was thinking about apprehending my weapon."

"But he didn't," she pointed out sternly, "and you know why, Zechs? Because he's just a _kid_. A messed up kid from a broken home, but just a kid. It's not our job to pick him up... leave that to social services."

"Do you honestly believe his story about the abuse?"

"I think it makes more sense than assuming he's a Gundam pilot, yes."

"His dad doesn't beat him up," Zechs determined and Noin quirked a curious eyebrow.

"How do you know?"

"Because he isn't scared of him," the young man stated thoughtfully, looking at the boy through the monitor. "I could tell by his reaction when I mentioned his father. He got these scars elsewhere."

"That still doesn't make him a Gundam pilot," she argued, "just a kid who's been through a lot."

"He knows something," Zechs insisted. "There's something going on in that house, Noin."

"I agree, but this kid doesn't know anything about it."

"Do you believe his cockamamie story about the model kits?"

"Yes, I do. My nephew is into those things. It's a popular hobby among young boys."

"Do you think I'm barking up the wrong tree?"

Noin smiled artfully. "I think you're acting this way because you saw him with _her_," she established, smirking; "you've spent so much time looking at that island that you're seeing what you want to see... or not. I see your face when those two are at the beach. I bet you'd fire a missile at the island if you ever see him kiss her..." She sneered.

"This has nothing to do with Relena," Zechs muttered.

"Of course not."

"It's this boy..." he said, studying the monitor with a frown; "There's... something about him. I could be wrong, but I have to make sure."

Noin sighed and stood up. "The longer we keep him here, the deeper trouble we'll be once we let him go."

"He won't tell anyone."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's already hiding something. We just have to find out what it is."

* * *

><p>It was nighttime. Of course, Heero could only assume that, because there were no windows in his cell. Something in the air just felt like it was very late. The lights seemed dimmer somehow. He has been sitting locked in a cell for hours. At first, he was anxious. Then he was angry, restless. Afterwards he just felt helpless.<p>

Sitting on the small cot in his cell, he started thinking; mostly about his dad and the implications of what that masked officer had said. Could it be that Duo was actually—? _Nah..._ That was preposterous. But then again, Duo _has_ been acting strangely since the war began, and he's been away a lot more these past few months...

No. That was stupid. This was his dad they were talking about! The idiot couldn't possibly be one of those fearsome Gundam pilots everyone was so scared of... he hardly looked the part. He was his _dad –_ the klutz with the silly braid! The goof who'd do _anything_ to get a laugh out of him; the careless guy who used to tell him to forget about his homework and come play with him in the back yard until sundown; the man who spent a whole damn afternoon trying to find his ticklish-spot when he was little and then wouldn't let go until he had nearly choked laughing his lungs out. Come on! There was _no way_ Duo could be anything like those pilots! There _has_ got to be a better explanation. This was so crazy!

He heard a heavy door open, followed by quiet footsteps. Someone was coming. He stood up, tensing readily, his fists clenched at his sides.

A young soldier approached his cell, holding a food tray. He was a tall, slender boy – no more than sixteen years of age. A cadet, probably. OZ enlisted them young.

"Come forward," the cadet said; his voice was low and very quiet, like a whisper. The boy knelt down, placing the tray on the floor by the bars. He kept his head bowed as he said in a quiet monotone voice: "Kneel down. Lean close to the bars."

Heero studied the kneeling boy for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. It looked like the boy didn't want the surveillance cameras to see their faces, most likely so that whoever was watching won't be able to read their lips. He did as he was asked and walked to the bars, crouching before the young cadet. He examined the boy's stoic face carefully. He really couldn't be much older than him. Long brown bangs fell over his face, concealing one of his emerald green eyes. His flat, emotionless affect was unnerving. His one visible green eye seemed devoid of anything human.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Heero whispered in quiet awe, keeping his head bowed towards the floor. The boy began handing him the food through the bars, keeping his head low as he spoke:

"You're not the first 'Heero' I've met," the boy said flatly, thus confirming his suspicion. "Tell me," he opened coldly, raising his head up to pin Heero's eyes with his deadpan gaze. "Did you see him?"

Heero hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should trust the boy. This could be an OZ trick, trying to gain his trust by sending in someone his age.

The cadet scrutinized Heero carefully with a piercing green eye. "Is he alive?"

Heero studied the boy's blank face for a moment. The sizzling in his chest told him he could trust him. He went with that feeling.

"I think he was badly hurt," he finally said.

"But did you _see_ him? Did you see his face? Can you describe him to me?" the cadet (Gundam pilot?) repeated his question more urgently. Heero frowned at the odd question.

"Uhm, no," he muttered; "He didn't let me see."

The other boy nodded slowly. "When was that?" he asked.

"Two days ago," Heero answered quietly. The cadet stood up, taking the tray with him. Heero rose to his feet as well. The other boy nodded curtly, just once; a wordless 'thank you'. He turned to leave.

"Hey!" Heero called after him, gripping the bars. "Are they going to let me go?"

"I wouldn't count on it," the cadet said quietly, his back to the cell. "I hear the colonel has plans for you," he added coldly and left the brig. Heero remained by the bars, looking at the empty corridor. Okay... now he was kind of scared. He really wished his dad was here to get him out of this mess.

* * *

><p>Two soldiers dragged him out of the cell first thing in the morning. He was brought back to the interrogation room. This time, there was only one chair by the table; a hefty wooden chair with thick handles. They forced him to sit on it and secured his hands to the armrests. The soldiers left. Alone in the room, he jerked his arms forcefully, trying to break free, but his resistance was futile. What was the point anyway? He could never get off the battleship; he would end up dead if he tried.<p>

The masked officer from the day before walked into the room. He was accompanied by a female officer in a similar getup and a military doctor. Heero watched carefully as the man placed a small med-kit on the table and opened it. There were two syringes and two vials full of clear liquid. The MD prepared the first shot and Heero's eyes darted dreadfully towards the masked officer.

"What's this for?" he asked nervously.

"To get some answers," Colonel Merquise replied coldly. The female officer seemed uneasy, like they shouldn't be doing whatever they were planning.

The doctor approached him, holding a syringe and a cotton-ball soaked with antiseptic liquid. He smeared the cold fluid on his upper arm, ready to administer the shot. Heero tensed at the cold touch against his arm, his whole body going rigid. He wriggled in his seat, but the MD steadied him with a strong hand.

"Have you ingested any drugs, alcohol or medication in the past twenty-four hours?" the man asked sternly.

"Uh... n-no," he stuttered, confused and afraid. He watched the needle press against his skin and closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Are you certain about this?" he heard the doctor ask. Thinking he was talking to him, Heero opened his eyes again, but the man was addressing the masked officer.

"He's very young," the doctor pointed out; "I can't guarantee this dose won't kill him."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," the officer stated calmly. He was looking at Heero as he said: "Do it."

The needle went in and the plunger was pushed down. Heero gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching. A moment later, it went slack, numbing. His upper arm brunt. Everything numbed. His body slumped forward in the chair. He felt woozy... fading away.

"We've injected you with a truth serum," Zechs informed him; his voice sounded like a faraway echo. "Very powerful," he said. "Are you feeling its effects?"

He nodded, keeping his head bowed low, chin against chest. His head swimming. He wasn't even sure he moved.

"...yes..." he slurred, feeling heavy. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Everything swirled in slow motion. He felt sick.

"Tell me your name again, please," the officer requested coldly. His voice sounded muffled, incoherent.

"Heero..." he murmured drowsily, "Heero Maxwell..."

"Is this your real name?"

"No..." he moaned, "but it's the only one I ever had..."

The two officers exchanged a look.

"Where are you from, Heero?" Zechs asked.

"...space..."

"Where exactly?"

"...all over... I dunno... We never stayed in one place too long..."

"Your father and you?" Noin asked to clarify.

"...no..." Heero shook his bowed head weakly. "It was... Before... Before Duo... I don't feel so good..." he moaned, coughing sickly. The doctor turned to look worriedly at Zechs. The young officer ignored him and kept his eyes on Heero.

"Who were you traveling with?" he asked.

"...Odin..." the boy slurred the name heavily; "Odin Lowe..."

"The assassin?" Noin marveled.

"...yeah..." Heero mumbled, gulping. "I'm gonna be sick..." he whined, gagging dry coughs.

"Sir," the doctor warned and took a step forward.

"In a minute," Zechs ordered and motioned him to back down. He was still looking fiercely at Heero.

"What were you doing with a former OZ assassin?"

The boy blinked sleepily, trying to stay focused. "...whatever he... whatever he... he told me... to do..."

"Did you work for him?"

"...yeah..."

"Did you kill for him?"

"Y-yeah..."

"How many?"

"I don't know... I was really little... I could only count to te—!" Heero suddenly chocked, retching sickly. He vomited, heaving onto himself and the floor.

"Something isn't right," the doctor insisted. He turned to Heero. "You said you didn't take anything."

"...cold medicine..." Heero murmured through chattering teeth. His whole body was trembling violently. "I... I f-for-g-got..."

"Shit," the doctor hissed, his face paling drastically. He turned to Zechs. "I have to give him the antidote."

"One more question."

"This could kill him."

"Just one more," the young officer insisted. He knelt in front of Heero, placing a hand on his trembling knee, and looked up into the boy's bowed head. The boy's face was soaked with tears, vomit dripping down his chin.

"Why are you on Earth, Heero? What are you doing on the island?"

The boy started sobbing, weeping sorrowfully. "I go to school..." he wailed, looking at Zechs with wild, tearful blue eyes; "Like Odin told me to... I go to school... that's all... soccer and school... that's all I do now... I swear..." He sniffled, his nose running. He looked miserably at the masked officer. "I play sports and go to school... that's all..." he cried, "I'm sorry about Before... I don't do that anymore... I promise... It's just me and my dad now... I won't do that anymore... I promise..." he uttered piteously before he fell into broken sobs.

"What did you see on that beach, Heero?"

"Zechs," Noin protested tensely. "That's enough."

"Quiet," he ordered, looking intently at Heero. "What did you see?"

Heero sniffled loudly, trying to stop crying. "...a light..." he whispered in a faltering voice; "a green light... in the water... and a boy... he tried to kill me... but he didn't... that's all I know... I didn't see his face... I don't know where he is... I... I'm sorry... I... I don't know anything... I just... I want to go home..." he whimpered, sniveling quietly. Suddenly he gasped, and his blue eyes rolled back into his head. He fainted, body slumping forward limply. The doctor hurried to administer the antidote.

Zechs got up. He studied the unconscious boy tied to the chair, before heaving a quiet sigh.

"Take him back to the island," he ordered Noin and walked out of the interrogation room.

* * *

><p>Sunset. The cliff-face at Heero's favorite beach was burning in a rich display of yellow, orange and red. Waves washed upon the shore, rustling quietly as they kissed the sand. Heero lay prone by the water, unconscious. His face and hair were soiled with muddy sand, his mouth agape and his lips blue from the cold. His hair and clothes were wet. The waves caressed his feet, washing back and forth over his dark-blue sneakers. His arms were laid sprawled lifelessly on the sand, wet soil clinging to his injured wrists.<p>

A slim and agile figure climbed quickly down the grassy hillside, moving hastily towards the beach. It sprinted lightly over the sand, heading towards the unconscious boy. The figure stood over Heero; a black silhouette against the setting sun. Bending forward, the figure picked Heero up by his arms and dragged him away from the water.

The massive OZ battleship was anchored in the horizon; merely a dark outline against the setting sun. The sun set, disappearing into the ocean. The battleship lights gleamed faintly against the purplish sky as the first evening stars twinkled up above.

Heero woke up to the sound of fire crackling softly. He felt very ill. He was wet, but the fire kept him warm. He could hear the ocean; waves swishing against the shore. Salty ocean air filled his lungs and he coughed, almost retching. He moaned miserably, feeling nauseated.

"Man," he heard a familiar voice; "you musta _really_ pissed 'em off if they gave you that shit... That stuff is _nasty_."

Fighting for awareness, Heero struggled to open his eyes, blinking repeatedly until he managed to keep them open. His vision was blurry. He saw a campfire burning a couple of feet away. He kept blinking until he could see straight. The boy from the day before was sitting on the other side of the small bonfire; just a dark silhouette beyond the flickering flames. He was tending the fire with a long wooden stick.

"You came back for me," Heero stated in a quiet lethargic whisper. "Why?"

"You were right," the boy mumbled as he poked around the fire with his stick; "no one came looking for you until it was too late. That's really sad, dude."

Heero nodded weakly against the sand, closing his eyes sadly. "Is that why you saved me? Because you felt sorry for me?"

"What – you think I ain't got nuthin' better to do with my time than spend the whole fuckin' day watching your pathetic demise? Nah... I wasn't really gonna kill ya. It was kinda like hazing a recruit, yanno? It was a test."

Heero gaped numbly at the flames. "To learn what?"

"If you could get yourself outta that shit."

"And I failed," he stated bleakly, watching the flames.

"Yeah, big time," the boy sniggered.

Ashamed, he closed his eyes, remembering how he had cried for his father. Pathetic indeed. Fucking embarrassing. He heaved a weary sigh and turned to look at the boy sitting behind the bonfire.

"Why were you testing me?" he asked. He could see the boy's shadowy figure shrug.

"I wanted to see for myself."

"To see what?" he snapped, annoyed by the cryptic answers.

"If you're really all that," the boy answered simply.

"All that _what?_" Heero grunted and pushed off the sand with one arm, sitting up. He glared at the silhouette beyond the flames.

"All that you're cracked up to be," the boy replied as though it should have been obvious. "...'least that's what your dad keeps tellin' me. I guess curiosity got the best of me, sorry. I shouldn't have done that... Death by drowning totally sucks, so I hear. Please don't tell him I screwed with you like that... he's totally _pissed_ at me as it is."

Heero ignored the boy's rambling. His mind was still trying to process the first part of what the boy had said.

"My _dad?_" he marveled, confused. "What the hell do you know about my _dad?_"

"A whole lot, actually..." the boy snickered and finally moved away from the fire, standing up. No longer just a black shadow, Heero could now see the boy clearly. Looking up, he gaped at his face, stupefied. The boy looked _exactly_ like his father... only about twenty years younger. They even had the same braid!

"Wh...what..?" he mumbled, dumbfounded. "Who..?"

Fuck. Did Duo have another son – a _real_ one?

The boy grinned cockily, amused by his stupor. He gestured with his head towards him tauntingly and greeted: "Yo, wassup, bro?"

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Act Two<strong>


	10. Act Two - Part 1

**Act Two – Part 1**

All eyes in the room turned to the elevator as the doors opened and Agent Duo Maxwell charged ferociously into the busy office floor of Preventer's NYC Operations branch. A daunting air of darkness radiated from the grieving young man, warding off anyone who dared approach him. His hard expression was cold, but his cobalt-blue eyes were livid; they burned with silent rage. His ashen complexion and the dark circles under his eyes told of the many sleepless nights he had suffered these past few weeks, ever since he had lost his partner.

Having been put on a leave of absence, he was not wearing the standard-issue uniform, rather a pair of dark jeans and black leather jacket. His long braid was in shambles, the knots unraveling messily. Dry frizzy hair with split ends – a result of bad haircare over a substantial amount of time – perked up scruffily around his head, swaying wildly as he moved briskly past office cubicles, carrying a small cardboard moving box. No one dared speak a word to him as he stomped briskly towards the empty desk at the far end of the office floor, situated near a large wall-to-wall window overlooking Manhattan.

He slammed the small box on the desk and then froze, suddenly still. He stood tensely, staring numbly at the empty desk. The agents around him watched his stiff backside anxiously. He didn't move for a few good minutes. Finally, one agent stood up, moving away from his cubicle: Zechs Merquise. The thirty-one-year-old Preventer approached his younger colleague carefully.

"Maxwell," he opened quietly as he stood a step behind the distraught agent; his calm voice was almost soft, sympathetic. "My condolences," he said; "Heero was a formidable agent... and a good man."

"He was much more than that," Duo mumbled forlornly, gripping the empty box tightly. Zechs regarded him quietly for a moment, before nodding in agreement. He walked away, leaving the grieving young agent to the task of picking up the pieces.

Life on the busy Operations floor gradually returned to normal. The usual hustle and bustle renewed as agents turned back to their work. Duo remained motionless by the empty desk under the window, staring at it drearily.

The worktop has already been cleared by Preventer HR. The computer and monitor were gone, as well as any case-related materials that usually filled the file organizers on the desk; they were empty now.

Duo reached to open a drawer, the first out of three. It was filled with small office supplies: writing tools, post-it notes, paperclips and such. Nothing of a personal nature, except for one item – a small yellow stress-ball with a big smiley face drawn on it. It was tattered and old, the smiling face faded and worn after being squashed many times by a strong hand. Duo smiled wistfully at the little yellow ball and picked it up gently, turning it around as he held it up to his face. He stared wretchedly at the faded smile. It was a silly gift he had given Heero years ago. He placed it in the box.

Opening the second drawer, he found more office supplies: binders, folders, notepads and sheet-protectors. He rummaged through them hastily, searching of any personal effects, but he didn't find anything. He slammed the drawer shut and yanked the last one open. It was empty. Duo kicked it furiously, making a racket, and a few anxious glances were sent his way. He ignored the disapproving looks, snatched the box off the desk, turned briskly on his heels and stomped back towards the elevator, seething silently.

The smiling yellow stress-ball rolled wildly back and forth inside the otherwise empty box Duo was carrying.

* * *

><p>Standing in front of a closed door in a narrow hallway of a Manhattan apartment building, sifting through a meager set of keys dangling from a silver-skull keychain, Duo picked a plain silver key marked by a blue plastic key-cover and slid it into the lock. The door creaked quietly as Duo pushed it open. A gush of stale air hit his face; old and dusty. It has been a long while since anyone stepped foot in the small residence.<p>

Duo closed the door behind him and turned to face the dark living room. It was a bland and featureless apartment, scarcely furnished and very neat. Heero lived like a damn _monk_. Stripes of morning sunshine filtered through closed blinds obscuring the large living room window. Duo raised the blinds and let the light in, exposing a view of a busy Manhattan street. Bright gray light flooded the room and washed every surface, revealing weeks' old layers of dust. A thick sheet of filth covered the dark hardwood floor. Dust-bunnies rolled across the room once Duo opened the window to let in some fresh air.

He walked into the small kitchen first, carrying the moving box with him. There was one plate, one glass and one fork resting on a small dish-rack by the sink. He knew he would find one more of each in the cupboard; a second set of dishes Heero used when he came over. The countertop was spotless; the sink was clean. In the fridge he found a carton of milk and OJ that have gone bad after sitting there for too long, along with a few mold-raising vegetables that have spoiled. He pulled the trashcan from under the sink and threw them all away. He took out the trash-bag, grabbed the cardboard box from the countertop – the yellow ball still the only item inside – and walked to the bathroom.

He picked up two bottles of shampoo and shower gel from the bathroom rack. He was about to throw them away, but then he stopped and opened them, inhaling their scent deeply – Heero's musky scent. He closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the familiar odors, and smiled miserably. He took a moment to bask in the heady male aromas and finally opened his eyes; the cobalt-blue was burning heatedly. He stuffed the two bottles into the trash bag violently and turned to the vanity.

There were two toothbrushes resting inside a plain white plastic holder: one red, one blue. The blue one was Heero's, and the red one was his. Even though they've been lovers for over five years, they never moved in together. Heero was the kind of person who needed his space. The jerk didn't even give him any closet space despite the fact that he spent the night here at least thrice a week. A toothbrush was a statement more than a necessity (he could easily carry one along with the change of clothes he always kept in his car). It was his small claim in Heero's territory; a testament to their serious relationship.

He snatched the two toothbrushes and threw them into the garbage bag, scowling angrily. So much for that.

Duo then turned to open a small drawer in the bathroom cabinet and found more toiletries: razors, toothpaste, deodorant and such. He threw them into the bag as well.

There was also a small hairbrush with strands of long chestnut-brown hair tangled around its rigid bristles. He smiled a little and picked up the brush, looking at it with wistful cobalt blue eyes. Heero hated it when he used his brush and he kept on doing it just to spite him. Getting under Heero's skin was one of his favorite hobbies. He fondly recalled how Heero had grumbled that he shed like a damn dog while yanking his hair out of his hairbrush. Duo placed it in the box, along with yellow stress-ball with the fading smile.

The bedroom was next. It was a modest room, with a neatly-made queen size bed pressed against the wall in the corner because the room was so small, a single night table and a small wardrobe. He stood by the bed for a while, just gaping at it desolately. Whenever he slept over he took the side of the bed next to the wall. He didn't like sleeping while being pressed between a rock and a hard place almost in the literal sense of the word, but at least he managed to fall asleep eventually; Heero never could, so his spot was on the open side of the bed and facing the door, both here and in his place.

Sitting down on the edge of Heero's side of the bed, Duo turned to the small night table. He opened the single drawer. He found a phone charger, some off-the-counter cold medicine and painkillers, plus a box of tissue; Heero was prone to colds during winter... or he used to be. Past tense. He sighed deeply, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. Everything about Heero was now a thing of the past.

He also found a pack of condoms and lubricant gel. He smiled, chuckling quietly while tears shone in his sad blue eyes. They've had some good times fucking on this bed. They even broke the damn thing once (Heero's fault, not his; the guy fucked like an animal— _used_ to fuck like an animal). There used to be a time, back when they first got together, when a bottle of lube didn't even last the night. Sex became less frequent over the years, but on a good week they could still easily go through two whole bottles. That was why, when he reached deeper into the drawer, he found a spare bottle of lube, still in the box. They will never get to use this one.

Grimacing painfully, Duo shoved everything into the garbage bag. He closed the drawer and turned to the table top. Two items were resting there: an orange bottle of prescription sleeping pills and a book: _"Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea"._

Duo reached for the novel and picked it up gently, handling it with care as though it would crumble at the touch of his fingers. A bookmark was placed towards the middle of the thick book; it was a fancy metallic marker. He opened the novel on the bookmarked page, staring miserably at the silver card. It was engraved with a title reading: _"100 Books to Read before You Die"._

The bookmark was a gift he had given Heero about two years ago. His lover had trouble sleeping – he was quite the nightbird – so Duo thought it would be a nice quiet way for him to pass the time instead of succumbing to the destructive path thoughts tended to take at night.

Below the title was a list of fifty books and a small checkbox next to each one. Every box was marked ✓ by a black marker. Duo took the bookmark out carefully and flipped it over. There were fifty more books listed on the other side, but only half of them were checked. The rest of the checkboxes remained empty; they will always remain empty. The Old Man and the Sea was #87. Heero never made it to one hundred.

More tears welled in Duo's eyes. He held onto the fragile bookmark and cried miserably. He thought that he didn't have any more tears in him – he had cried so much over the past few weeks – but apparently he was wrong. The tears would not stop coming. He sat on Heero's bed, sobbing brokenly while clutching the bookmark to his chest.

It was a while before his crying subsided. Once he got the sobbing under control, Duo wiped his tears with the back of his hand and returned the bookmark to the last page Heero had read. He placed the old book inside the box along with the yellow stress-ball and used hairbrush. He got up and went to the wardrobe at the other side of the small bedroom.

His senses were assaulted by a violent gush of a familiar fragrance when he opened the two-door closet doors. He took a moment to simply stand there with his eyes closed, breathing in the scent of Heero's clean clothes. One side of the closet contained a column of shelves with neatly folded garments resting in well-ordered piles; denim and sweats mostly. The second half of the closet was occupied by a clothes rack and underwear drawers. Four sets of Preventer uniform were suspended tidily from wooden hangers, along with a single black suit Heero used for just about any black-tie event – business or pleasure – he had to attend, however reluctantly. He hated dressing up, even though he looked so heartbreakingly handsome in this slim-fitted suit.

Duo reached for the elegant black suit, caressing it gently. He let the tip of his fingers glide over the smooth black fabric along the blazer's sleeve, until he reached the bottom – the empty hole where the suit ended and Heero's hand was supposed to peek out of the sleeve. He stared at the empty space under the sleeve through tear-bleary eyes and realized that he will never hold Heero's hand again. He cried some more, holding onto the hollow sleeve.

They have shared a very complicated, sometimes dysfunctional relationship, defying clichés and overcoming norms and definitions. Honestly, Duo often wondered how they ever managed to make it work.

For them, love came slowly, subtly. It was years of subtle flirtations leading their deep friendship from platonic to romantic love. It took them over five years to finally get together; _five freaking years_ before they were willing to accept that they were in love – not counting the whole year of AC 195 when all they did together was wage battle. That year didn't count. It all started after the war was finally behind them.

Working as Preventers since early AC 197, after the last major conflict between Earth and the Colonies was contained, they were often partnered on various assignments because they worked so well together. They were complimentary opposites in that they brought out the best in each other, challenging the other's ways of thinking and thus encouraging the other to open his mind and look at a different perspective. They were a brilliant investigation team and remarkable Operations agents capable of coming up with the most creative, efficient and bullet-proof mission plans. They had the best track record of successfully executed "fire extinguishing" missions in the Agency.

Yet, despite their opposite viewpoints and clashing nature, they really weren't that different at the core. They were both flawed individuals who were extremely independent and stubborn, single-minded and passionate about what they believe in; they were both workaholics who chose to sacrifice their personal lives for their quest to ensure against another violent outbreak of war; and, more importantly, they have shared similar past experiences, sharing an inability to emotionally let anyone into their world. For Heero, his main defensive mechanism was to focus on his strength, refusing to show the slightest sign of weakness – denying his own humanity. For Duo, it was obsessively dedicating himself to the danger and thrill of the job, thus detaching himself from having to deal with the quiet normal.

It was a matter of nature versus heart. By nature, they viewed emotional vulnerability as a fatal mistake. They have both been scarred by their past and, given the intimate friendship they had developed over the years, they were absolutely terrified of being burned by what was gradually deepening into romantic love. Heero was the one person Duo could not lose, and Duo was the one person Heero could not lose. A rejection from the other would have been devastating, the greatest pain of all. It was easier to skirt around their feelings rather than surrender to them and risk a broken heart. Nevertheless, by the irresistible desire of the heart, they were continually drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. The sexual tension grew unbearable. One day, after an especially challenging mission they aced against all odds, they finally succumbed to desire and something began to shift, changing things between them.

Their impulsive resistance to this shift manifested itself in one-night stands. They tried to make it all about the sex, taking an almost clinical approach to it; it was just a way to relieve the tension between them, get it out of the way before it would destroy what they already had. Their relationship became complicated, so they tried to simplify it, dividing it to categories: they were partners at work, friends during off-hours and occasional fuck buddies at night.

For a while, it worked. Nothing really changed. They were still willing to risk their lives for each other, confide in each other, trust in each other above all else and fiercely fight for each other; they were also willing to offer strength when the other was at his lowest. Even so, they were afraid to take the next step. The only real hurdle they truly had to face was themselves. They've been each other's "constant" and "one and only" all along, but they needed to do away with their old selves, to break away from their own misconceptions. They needed to free themselves of the fear holding them back, the impulsive fear of failing was the only obstacle standing in their path. They were afraid to fail in the_ one_ thing they truly wanted to succeed at: loving each other. They had to break free of this fear before taking things to the next level.

Duo's release came when he was gravely injured during a mission. Something had been off with Heero's calculations and it botched up the whole mission, literally blowing up in Duo's face. He fell into a two-week coma, and he dreamt. His dream confronted him directly with his internal struggle for love. He dreamt of a life he could have if he chose to slow down and live a normal, simple life. He could settle down somewhere nice and green, maybe by the ocean, have a spouse and a fishing boat or whatever. He could live without the thrill, without the danger. He didn't have to be that person anymore. His time with Heero had caused him to grow, and through him Duo realized what a lie it would be to deny who he has become. It would be just as much of a lie to deny who has captured his heart and made him into this new person. He didn't need danger to find fulfillment and meaning in life anymore; he had Heero, and that was enough of a thrill.

Heero was by his side when he woke up, a guilty expression on his usually blank face. Duo just smiled at him, as much as his aching face allowed, and reached to hold Heero's hand gently. It was an admission of love without ever saying a word. Heero actually responded by returning the sentiment, squeezing Duo's hand tightly. Thus, love has become requited for Duo, allowing him to dedicate himself fully to his relationship with Heero. He just had to wait for him to be ready.

It felt like it was taking forever. It was impossible for Heero to fall in love when he was already in love but refusing to accept it. Duo tried to be patient, comforting himself with how Heero was unconsciously trying to get his attention. It was the little things, and they mattered the most: a touch of a hand, a jealous glare towards a flirting waitress, a barely stifled smile at one of his silly jokes, bringing him lunch when he lost himself in work at the office, a midnight call when Heero couldn't sleep...

_'What are you doing?'_ Heero would ask almost coyly.

_'Well, I __**was**__ sleeping,'_ he would yawn a reply.

_'Can I come over?'_

He would pause for effect, just yanking Heero's chain, and then say with a smile: _'Of course.'_

He tried to make it clear to Heero that there was no need to try getting his attention; he already had it. All he had to do was reach out to him, and he would hold Heero so tight and never let go.

That day came when they first started working on the case that had eventually brought on Heero's demise.

Back in AC 202 it was brought to Preventer's attention that illegal trafficking of highly experimental technology was taking place on both Earth and the Colonies. They traced the technology to the five secret laboratories used by the Colonies to design and construct the Gundams. The experiential equipment originated from the labs of the five scientists working on Operation Meteor. Upon their deaths their labs were raided by various factions and the technology was scattered across the Earth and Space. Preventer feared that the extremely advanced technology would fall into the wrong hands, as some of it has already turned up during various "fire extinguishing" missions. It was an ongoing mission for the past five years. They were constantly searching for illegal shipments, and whenever something came up they raided and confiscated sensitive cargos.

One day their sources lead them to a small cargo ship that was supposed to dock on the moon. Heero and he were sent to commandeer the vessel. They took it down and a tech-team came to sort through the smuggled equipment. It was their job to protect the engineers coming on board and ensure against any danger. Walking inside the maze of large wooden crates, searching for booby traps, Heero stumbled onto something that looked familiar: a large glass case. He was certain he had seen it before, in Doctor J's lab. Against better judgment (Heero tended to lose his cool whenever something of his past popped up), he opened it.

It was a cryogenic stasis pod invented by Dr. J. When they activated the capsule's small computer terminal, a video began playing. It showed footage of Dr. J, instructing his pupil that if he was to survive the war then he should do the right thing and place himself in the pod so that future generations may use him as a weapon if ever another conflict between Earth and the Colonies will ensue and the Colonies will require his skills.

That was the first time Duo had seen Heero's expressionless mask crack – completely. At first, he just gaped at the video screen, stunned. Then, his face slowly shifted to an appalled grimacing expression. He seemed utterly disgusted. Afterwards, he was angry, furious... _hateful_. Duo had never seen such rage. Years of pent-up resentment, hopelessness and fear exploded at once. Heero had punched the small screen repeatedly until it cracked and his knuckles bled. Then he turned to the teardrop-shaped viewing window of the capsule and smashed it with his gun until it shattered loudly. He started kicking the cryo-chamber, screaming and crying wildly at the same time, cussing J furiously. His words were angry and incoherent, but Duo could still make out some of it: Heero was angry – no, _hurt_ – that all he was ever meant to be was a weapon, utilized and stored as deemed necessary.

That night, Heero had clung almost desperately to him. For once, he had initiated such contact. He found the courage to drop his guard and allow himself to just be a person seeking comfort instead of resisting it, and Duo responded by providing it. He had held Heero all through the night, caressing his hair gently and making empty promises he couldn't keep, trying to assure him that he never was and never will be just a weapon.

That mission was to Heero what that coma-dream was to Duo. Heero was faced with who he used to be and the life he would have had if he had followed J's final order. Everything had lead them to that defining moment. They were finally both ready to love each other, no inhibitions.

At one point they even considered leaving their quest for peacekeeping behind them to create a home together and live a fairly low-key, normal life, but there were still too many aspects that remained unresolved. Maybe they each still needed to undergo an individual journey to reinforce their overall journey of growth. Whatever it was, it didn't feel right to just pack up and leave it all behind. They weren't ready.

Over the years, moving in together became a topic that came up often during their usual sparring. Duo felt it was time; Heero, apparently, didn't. He was fully dedicated to his job and failed to see why it mattered so much where they spent the night.

There was plenty more to fight about. Aside from accusing each other of being married to their work instead of investing themselves in their relationship, they fought about _everything_: from trivial things like Chinese or pizza for dinner, to more serious matters such as Heero's vaguely-platonic (or as Duo accused – borderline-romantic) relationship with ESUN senator Relena Darlian, and ending with arguments about the very nature and foundation of their relationship. Lately, their fights were mostly about moving in together. Duo was angry that even after five years of bouncing between their separate apartments Heero still didn't want to move in together. Heero on the other hand was angry that Duo didn't get that he still needed to keep some distance from time to time. Duo _did_ get it, but was no longer willing to accept it as an excuse. They argued about it the night Heero died.

Sitting in an unmarked vehicle during a long stakeout, waiting in the shadows of a tall warehouse to spot suspicious activity near a place they suspected was used to traffic illegal tech arriving from the Colonies, they got into their habitual argument about moving in. He said it was time already; Heero said not yet. He got mad.

_'Then when __**is**__ the __**right**__ time!?' _he had grumbled petulantly.

_'Easter,'_ Heero had replied calmly; too calmly, as though trying to spite him.

_'Easter?'_ Duo laughed cynically; _'Da fuck so special about Easter!'_

_'Just wait until Easter,'_ Heero insisted quietly.

_'Why? What's gonna change in the next two months?'_

_'Nothing,'_ was the annoyingly cold answer.

_'Then why Easter?'_ He pressed on, but they never got to finish that conversation, because they spotted some movement inside the building. They went in. The place was bobby trapped. They realized it too late. Heero thought he recognized something from Dr. J's lab, something he had seen as a child. He approached it with care. Nervous, Duo told him to forget about it and wait for the tech-team; he didn't want another incident like what happened with the cryo-chamber. His lover simply wasn't himself whenever he ran into something from his past with J. Heero told him not to worry, it seemed safe. It was a small device, a headset of some sort. Heero said it couldn't possibly be rigged.

But the moment he lifted if out of the box, a timer lit up, bleeping madly – a bomb was about to go off. Heero pushed him out of the way and tried to make a run for it. They didn't make it. The blast threw them across the warehouse; Heero took most of the hit. The explosion didn't kill him, but the fall they took to escape the blazing fire did. Heero's neck snapped and he was gone, just like that. After all he had endured and survived, it was such a _stupid_ way to go! It was inconceivable that _Heero_ – the fucking _invincible_ Heero! – would die such a useless and careless death! It just wasn't right. It wasn't fair!

Duo stood in front of Heero's neatly organized closet, crying silently. Tears streaked his unshaven cheeks. He stared at Heero's clothing, feeling torn. He didn't know what to do with it. He had to return the uniform to Preventer, but what about the rest? Should he throw it away? Donate it? Keep it? And what about the dirty clothes still in the bathroom hamper? Would it be terribly perverse if he kept them so he could put them next to him in bed and wrap himself in Heero's scent during the cold lonely nights?

He settled on leaving that decision for later. Instead he reached a hand deeply into the closet, searching every nook and cranny to make sure Heero didn't stash any hidden weapons. He found a small sidearm in the socks drawer. He held it gently, looking at it almost fondly. He placed it in the box because it was something personal of Heero's, probably the most personal item of all.

Turning back to the closet, he rose on his tiptoes and reached blindly to the top shelf a few inches above his head. He felt around until his fingers encountered a hard surface – a box. He reached up with two hands and pulled it out carefully. It was a plain brown shoebox. It felt rather heavy; there was something inside. He wondered if he had finally found something more private, intimate, of Heero's; something he could keep that would hold real meaning. Maybe a hidden box of memorabilia?

He sat back on the bed, anxious, and stared at the box in his lap, bracing himself. He opened it slowly, staring wide eyed at its content. A small chuckle/whimper escaped his lips. He reached into the box and pulled out a ragged, filthy, old pair of mustard colored sneakers – Heero's shoes; the same pair he had worn during wartime. The once vibrant mustard color was faded, worn out by black smudges of dirt, even blood. The shoes reeked of sweat, smoke and gunpowder. Heero never washed them. He kept them as they were; like time frozen in a box, a personal time capsule.

Duo laughed, or sobbed; he wasn't sure which anymore. He hugged the old pair of shoes tightly against his chest and cried some more. It was a long while before he was able to put the shoes back in their box and place it in the moving box at his feet.

Lastly, Duo walked back to the modest living room. He settled heavily on the sofa and reached to open the small laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him. He booted it up and typed in the password. After seeing Heero's fingers type it in so many times, he didn't have any trouble retracing the movement of Heero's fingers from memory and type in the correct combination of keys. It only took two attempts, and he was in.

He opened the email software. It was a terrible invasion of privacy, and Heero was a _very _private person, but that didn't matter anymore. Heero was dead and Duo was desperate for anything he might have left behind.

Not surprisingly, most of the emails were work related, but there was one email folder labeled "personal". He opened it, his heart hammering in his chest. The majority of the emails in the folder were ones he had sent Heero, mostly those funny emails and chain-letters that circled around the office. Nearly all of them were marked boldly as "unread". Duo smiled sadly. He knew Heero never bothered with them, but still he insisted on forwarding him this bullshit, hoping for a laugh.

His eyes were drawn to the only email marked "read", dating about a month back. The sender was someplace called "The National Hotel". Curious, he clicked to open the email:

_Dear Mr. Yuy,_

_Thank you for your reservation at the National Hotel - the flagship Victorian hotel on Block Island, RI._

**_Reservation Details:_**

**_Check in:_**_April 25th AC 207 _

**_Check out:_**_April 28th AC 207_

**_Room:_**_Ocean View Queen_

**_Guests:_**_2 adults_

**_Accommodation: _**_Half-board_

**_Total:_**_$1200_

Duo gaped at the email, stupefied. Holy shit. Heero had booked them a vacation for Easter. Judging by the pricy sum, it looked like a pretty fancy hotel too. The God damn prick... he was actually trying to do something nice, even romantic, for a change. Was he going to ask him to move in together? Is that why he wanted to wait until Easter? Jesus Christ... that was it, wasn't it? Fucking Hell! He had known the guy for over ten years and _still_ Heero managed to surprise him! God damn him... Heero had planned their first fucking vacation.

"Oh God..." a cry escaped Duo's trembling lips, forming into a flood of tears. The grief overwhelmed him and Duo succumbed to the sobs one more, covering his face with his hands and bawling shamelessly on the sofa.

Heero _did_ leave something meaningful behind; he left memories of things that would never happen.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>


	11. Act Two - Part 2

**Paradox**

**Act Two – Part 2:**

Duo went on that vacation alone. He took two things with him: the book Heero never got to finish, and the plain black urn containing his lover's ashes.

Block Island was about a five hour drive away from New York City, but it felt like a world away. It was beautiful. Heero would have liked its bleak charm; the old New England town and the wild pristine beaches protected by lighthouses and spectacular bluffs, surrounded by green meadows, rolling roads and winding paths. The skies were almost always overcast and the ocean was calm. The serenity of spring was just what they would have needed to remind them that being together was more about fighting and fucking. If Heero had indeed planed on asking him to move in with him, it would have truly been the perfect romantic getaway.

Instead Duo wandered around the town of New Shoreham alone, just gaping numbly at everything around him. He stood by the tall barbed-wire-fence surrounding a modest airfield in the center of town and watched small, piston-powered aircrafts take off and land. He then wandered into town and stopped at a café by the beach to read the novel Heero had been reading before he died. It was a boring book about an old man trying to catch a big fish, but he was determined to read it through. He will read every novel left on the bookmark list, thirteen in total, and finish what Heero had started.

He spent four days on the island strolling the beaches and many nature paths, trying to enjoy the beautiful scenery when in fact he felt dead inside. He returned to the hotel every night and sat in bed, alone, reading the book start to finish. He fell asleep holding onto a shirt he had taken out of Heero's hamper.

On one of his wanderings around the island, he found a beautiful and secluded strip of beach far off the outskirts of town. The cliff-face at that beach was stunning. The vibrantly colored bluffs seemed like they were on fire: a magnificent display of red, yellow, orange and brown merging together to look like flames. It was breathtaking. Looking at the beach while standing on the cliffs above felt like standing at the edge of the world. He chose that beach as Heero's final resting place and scattered his ashes into the water.

He stood barefoot on the cold sand, hugging the empty black urn closely against his chest, and cried as he watched the massive blue ocean carry away what was left of his lover. The gray ashes twirled with the currents, sinking into the water until they disappeared.

"Thank you for everything..." Duo whispered shakily, weeping silently; "except for the dying part..." he added miserably; "That was really stupid, Heero..." he whimpered, his blue eyes wild and angry.

"**THAT WAS REALLY STUPID!**" he screamed madly at the ocean and broke into pathetic sobs, dropping to his knees against the sand.

It wasn't supposed to end this way!

* * *

><p>It was about six weeks more before Duo was finally able to go back to work. He asked for a transfer, someplace far from Earth, away from the memories. He wanted to get away as far as he possibly could, so he asked to be assigned to the MO-V case.<p>

MO-V was a backwater asteroid belt colony with about 100,000 residents, known mainly for its outdated Leo production facilities [[i]]. Because mobile dolls like the Taurus replaced the aging Leo model during the war, MO-V was largely ignored by OZ and thus remained generally untouched by the fighting. However, there were rumors that a surviving faction of the Romefeller Foundation was using the remote colony as a base of operations for a secret project involving some of the experimental technology Preventer has been tracking over the past few years. The Agency has been following illegal shipments of technological goods to the asteroid belt for months, looking into it. A team was about to be dispatched, and Duo wanted in.

The agent in charge of the MO-V investigation and the man heading the team that was about to go there was no other than Chang Wufei. That did not work in Duo's favor, because the ex-05-pilot was not so crazy about the idea of having a grief-stricken Duo working the case. Still, being a man of honor, he did not object to the transfer out of respect to his former comrade.

It was a month long trip to the asteroid belt [[ii]]. Duo spent it in his quarters, reading. He had eight more books to go to complete the list and he was determined to finish them by the time they arrived at MO-V.

He also spent a lot of time going over the investigation files, reading all of the intelligence reports and field notes Preventer has accumulated over the past five years, including some of the cases Heero and he had worked on. He sat on his bed, staring at his laptop for hours, reviewing reports, investigation notes, speculations and data. For the first time since he started working these cases, Duo got to have a good look at the bigger picture, and it wasn't pretty. According to Preventer Intelligence, a lot of sensitive technology has already reached MO-V. There was evidence that the surviving Romefeller supporters were trying to recreate the ZERO System, but no indication of any mobile suit production. That had Preventer's specialists baffled. The enemy wanted the system for something else and the question on everybody's mind was – what for?

A team of scientists was put on the case about two years ago. The squints' job was to brainstorm ideas and try to make heads or tails out of the technology that was being meticulously transported to the asteroid belt. One of the first things the team did was interview all five ex-Gundam pilots, trying to build an inventory list of what the five scientists might have had in their labs and maybe even shed some light on the purpose of some of the strange equipment the Agency has already apprehended.

The interviews were filmed. It was the only footage he had of Heero. He sat alone in his quarters every night, watching it. The first time had been the hardest. His heart felt as though it was about to explode and burst out of his chest. It was torture; a masochist ritual he performed every night. He sat on his bed in the dark, his blue eyes shimmering with tears, and watched the video.

It was a headshot of Heero from the chest up. The young man, then twenty-five years of age, was sitting in a featureless interrogation room. He was wearing his Preventer uniform, looking tense. His sharp blue eyes glared at a person sitting in front of him.

An average human touches his face three to five times every waking minute. Heero, however, didn't even twitch a single muscle. His presence was as firm and solid as ice. He waited quietly, sitting rigidly and scowling darkly at his interrogator.

"Thank you for coming in," his interviewer began politely; he was sitting beyond the camera's range. "I'm Doctor Henry Gendler and I'm the Chief Science Officer on the MO-V investigation. State your name for the camera, please."

"Heero Yuy," Heero said and sent a harsh glance towards the camera, dismayed. Despite the tears, Duo chuckled quietly. Heero didn't like being filmed; it made him edgy. More tears welled in his eyes when it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't even have a picture of Heero, nothing tangible to remember him by. He should have taken a photo, even if Heero would have threatened to break his phone for taking his picture. He always figured he could do it some other time, maybe catch Heero in a good mood, but he never should have been so naïve. There were no assurances. It was stupid to believe that there will always be another time, another chance to take a photo and eternalize a precious moment shared together. He would have hung a whole gallery wall of them if he could, but he had run out of moments all too soon.

"You trained as a Gundam pilot under the man calling himself Doctor J, correct?" Dr. Gendler asked Heero in the video.

"Yes," Heero confirmed firmly. Duo noted how his shoulders tensed even more at the mention of J.

"I'm going to show you photos of technology we've apprehended over the years," the man sitting next to the camera said. "Let me know if anything looks familiar."

"I was not allowed in the lab."

"Maybe something will ring a bell."

Dr. Gendler placed a tablet computer on the table in front of Heero and told him to look over the photos in the database. Duo studied Heero's face carefully as he browsed through the photos, no expression crossing his stony face. Suddenly, he stopped and stared lengthily at one photo.

"This one," he said, turning to the man in front of him.

"Item E44158 dash 6?" Dr. Gendler asked.

"Yes."

The man lifted the tablet to the camera to show the picture. It looked like some sort of freakish tan bed. He set the tablet down and turned back to Heero.

"What do you know about this thing?" he asked; "What is it used for?"

"Regeneration," Heero replied curtly. Duo couldn't see, but he suspected that Heero's fists were clenched tightly under the table. It was very difficult for him to talk about his time with J. Even though he never dared asking his lover about what he had been through with Dr. J, the results spoke for themselves. Duo couldn't blame him for refusing to talk about it.

"Do you mean it heals?" Dr. Gendler asked curiously.

"Yes," Heero confirmed firmly.

"Does it work?"

"Yes."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?"

Heero paused for a moment. "I am," he finally said.

Duo felt his stomach churn uneasily.

"Please elaborate."

Heero sent a short glimpse to the camera, probably feeling very exposed. He was aware that many agents will be viewing this video. He hesitated, but then turned to Gendler, his face stark.

"There was scar tissue on my back," he opened slowly; "J peeled it off. I was laid prone on that bed. There was a strong light and some burning. The skin grew back unblemished."

Duo shifted uncomfortably on the bed, clutching the laptop tightly. He felt sick to his stomach. He doubted J used any anesthesia; Heero wouldn't have mentioned the burning if he had. He closed his eyes, his tears spilling. There was no real strategic reason to heal any scarring on Heero's back. J had used him as a test subject.

"Can it heal anything else?" Dr. Gendler asked. Duo turned back to the video.

"Fractures," Heero replied evenly.

"Broken bones?" Gendler tried to clarify.

"Yes."

"How about internal injuries? Bleeding tissue?"

"I don't recall. Maybe."

"_Maybe?_"

"I would have been unconscious."

A small movement at the corner of the screen suggested that Dr. Gendler had nodded his head. Heero resumed browsing through the photos, a hard, guarded, expression on his stoically handsome face. He stopped again, pointing at a photo.

"This one," he said quietly and turned to Gendler.

"Item E44172 dash 6?"

"Yes."

Dr. Gendler took the tablet again and presented it to the camera. This time it was a picture of a small barcode-scanner-like device, like the ones used at the supermarket.

"What is this one used for?" Dr. Gendler asked.

"Pain."

"You mean it's used for torture?"

Heero sent a quick glare to the camera again before leveling his gaze back on the man in front of him.

"Reinforcement," he said; "Pain tolerance."

This time Gendler didn't ask him to elaborate. Heero continued browsing. Duo studied his face closely. There was a slight twitch in his facial muscles; barely noticeable, but Duo was an expert in reading Heero. That was a definite expression that had just crossed his face – surprise.

"This," he stated blandly and pushed the tablet towards the other man. Dr. Gendler picked up the tablet and lifted it to the camera. "Item E44188 dash 6?"

Duo gasped; it was some sort of wireless EEG headset with an optical head-mounted display [[iii]].That was the same device that had caught Heero's interest seconds before the explosion. He tensed, leaning closer to the laptop. He studied Heero's face closely. Dr. Gendler placed the tablet back on the table.

"We were wondering what this is," the man said; "Do you know this device?"

"Yes."

"What does it do?"

"Emotional control."

"How so?"

Heero actually shifted in his seat this time. He raised a hand to push a lock of messy bangs out of his eyes. He was feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't know exactly," he said, lowering his hand down; "It affects the neurons in the dorsomedial frontal cortex."

"Thus inhibiting emotions?"

"Yes."

Is that why Heero was so interested in that device? Was he hoping for a way to reverse whatever was done to him? Duo grimaced, feeling a painful pang in his chest. He had always accused Heero of being an unfeeling bastard, but those were just angry words. His eyes watered with remorseful tears. He hoped Heero didn't take those accusations seriously, because Heero _did _feel, sometimes too much, like he couldn't regulate the emotions raging inside of him. It was either total control or no control at all, like the incident with the cryo-chamber or his overzealousness in bed; there was no middle ground.

"Neuro research suggests that when instructed to inhibit the emotion we use a different, more lateral area of the brain," Dr. Gendler pointed out.

"I was not instructed," Heero replied coldly; "This device somehow alters neuro pathways. I was forced to instruct myself... to stop feeling."

"Are you saying that you're incapable of emotion?" Dr. Gendler sounded skeptic.

Heero's face hardened into a cold, disdainful glare. His blue eyes burned with blame and resentment. "I'm saying that I had to find my way around what he did to me. It was never the same."

Duo closed his eyes sadly. Now he understood. Heero had to learn how to feel again, utilizing parts of his brain that weren't meant to regulate what he felt, because those areas were damaged; his access to them has been restricted. No wonder he was desperate for a solution. He just wanted to feel like a normal person would.

"Would you agree to take an fMRI?" [[iv]] Gendler asked.

Heero paused, thinking. He placed both hands on the table, entwining his fists tensely. He actually seemed... anxious. Duo knew his lover; very few things made him nervous. Heero was afraid to find out the extent of the damage Dr. J had caused him. When it came to acknowledging what had been done to him during his training, Heero seemed to favor denial; as if what he didn't know won't hurt him. Duo figured that it gave him hope, helped him believe that he could one day recover from whatever alterations J made to his body and mind.

"Would the device be used in the test?" Heero asked warily; his cold hard eyes struggled to mask his inner turmoil, but Duo could see straight through it.

"No," Gendler hurried to assured him. "We just want to have a look. In the interest of science, of course. I am curious to see how you've managed to bypass the damaged neuro-pathways."

"Some emotions are strong enough to endure," Heero said, casting his eyes down briefly. Duo smiled through his tears. That was the closest thing Heero has ever said to a love confession.

He watched Heero sigh quietly and lean back into the chair. He drew his hands away from the table, placing them down in his lap again. He contemplated the issue for a moment before looking up again, a firm expression on his handsome face.

"Fine," he agreed curtly, "You may."

"Thank you," Dr. Gendler said with a smile. Heero turned back to the tablet and kept browsing through the photos. Duo watched him anxiously.

"This thing," he said after a while, pushing the tablet towards the man.

"Item E44205 dash 6?"

"Yes."

"We already know what this one is. You're the one who found it. It's a cryogenic stasis chamber... the Teardrop."

"No," Heero countered sternly. "It's a time capsule."

"For _time traveling_?" the man asked doubtfully.

"Weapons' storage," Heero corrected. "I was supposed to go in it when the war ended."

Duo felt his heart sink painfully.

"Why didn't you?"

Heero hesitated. He glanced at the camera again, then back at the man. His face was blank as he said: "The future will have to make do without me."

Gendler chuckled uneasily. Fresh tears welled in Duo's eyes. He watched Heero continue browsing silently.

"That's it," he said and pushed the tablet across the table.

"Nothing else seems familiar?" Gendler asked, disappointed.

"No."

"Thank you for your cooperation, agent."

Heero nodded curtly and stood up, pushing his chair back. The camera could only see his midsection now.

"What are you going to do with all of this?" he asked.

"Keep it safe," Gendler replied; "For research purposes."

"You should burn it," Heero stated coldly and turned to leave the room. The video ended.

Duo closed the laptop's lid and his room fell into pitch black darkness. Only his tearful blue eyes glistened faintly in the dark.

* * *

><p>It was late at night; not that it really mattered in deep space, but the ship was on its night cycle: the lights in the hallways were dim, the air was quiet and only a skeleton crew was on duty. Duo sat alone in the small mess-hall, seated by a table-for-two next to a large window offering a view of endless darkness and distant stars. A bottle of Jameson whiskey and a single shot-glass were placed in front of him, as well as a hardcopy of the MO-V investigation file and a book – Catch-22; it was #96 on the list. He was dressed in his nightwear – plain black sweats. His wet hair was braided neatly after a shower; it was resting over his shoulder, dangling down to his lap.<p>

He had considered cutting his hair a few years ago, feeling that it was no longer appropriate for man almost pushing thirty, but now there was no way in Hell he was ever going to trim his braid. He hadn't touched its length since he was a child (just took care of split ends here and there). Every inch it grew was tribute to those he had cared about and lost; loved ones who could never move forward in time while he continued living without them. Now every inch it would grow would be a memorial to Heero as well. He will never cut it, _never_. Heero was very fond of his hair; it wouldn't be right to cut it, so he would just have to keep on living with the curious stares sent his way. He was used to it.

Three photos he had taken out of the thick file-folder were spread on the table in front of him: one was a picture of the freaky-looking tan-bed-like regeneration device, the other of the EEG headset device and the third was a photo of the Teardrop pod. He stared lengthily at the photos as he drank, a contemplative look in his deep blue eyes.

He had read in one of the reports that six months after the interviews were taken, a container loaded with much of this equipment was raided by an unknown group while being transported for storage at a secure location. It was not the first shipment to have been raided. Only then Preventer figured out that Dr. Gendler was in fact working against the Agency, supposedly aiding the group interested in the novel technology by shipping them exactly what they needed. It was suspected that that they were sending it to MO-V.

The rec-room automatic doors swooshed open and someone stepped into the small hall; a lanky young man, no more than twenty or so, with dark hair and thick eye-glasses. He was dressed in brown khakis and an unfashionable plaid shirt – he was one of the _squints _assigned to the case, the only one brave (or foolish) enough to join the mission to MO-V. The young scientist spotted Duo sitting alone by the window and smiled in greeting. He joined him, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down.

Duo glared at the younger man from behind his shot-glass, finishing his drink. He placed the empty shot on the table. He noted how the young squint – Dr. Andrew something, he vaguely recalled – was eyeing his book.

"Catch-22," the young specialist said, smiling awkwardly; "that's a classic. Dark humor, satire, zany antics... it's one of the greats."

"I guess," Duo mumbled and poured himself another shot. "I mean, I get the whole Catch-22 thing: you have to be insane to be a combat pilot and if you want out you need a doctor to say you're insane so you won't have to fly. But to tell you're insane means you are sane, so you must continue to fly... which makes you insane. Blah blah blah..." He scoffed and downed another shot, slamming it on the table once he was done. "What I _don't_ get is what the big deal is about this piece of _crap_. The author seems to lose his train of thought only to regain it two pages later... it's like he's got ADHD or something. What a _yawner_..." he muttered as he poured himself another shot of whiskey.

The squint, Andrew Something, chuckled at his defiant manner. "Well, you're certainly in the minority on that one, but I get where you're coming from, so I guess that's understandable."

"Oh you do now, do ya?" Duo grumbled cynically and raised his next shot of whiskey to his lips. "I never wanted out," he said, "none of us did," he added and gulped down his drink. He sighed, placed the empty glass on the table and reached for the bottle again.

"Then you must be insane," the young scientist joked.

"Insanity was part of the game," Duo muttered and poured himself another shot. "It kept us alive. Sanity is what kills you," he added bitterly, raising the shot-glass. "Normalcy sneaks up on you and you realize how fucked up you really are." He swigged the whiskey and released a long sigh, staring numbly at his empty glass.

An awkward silence fell. The young squint cast his gaze down, gaping uneasily at the table.

"...I've heard you lost one of your comrades," he murmured quietly; "I'm sorry."

"Yeah... so am I." Duo murmured numbly while staring at the empty shot-glass. "He just wanted to be normal again, yanno?" he slurred drunkenly, gesturing with his head towards the photos on the table: the tools used to forge Heero into the Perfect Soldier, and the God damn _coffin_ he was meant to be put to rest in until he will be needed once more.

"He didn't want to be that _thing_ they intended on storing in this pod. He finally wanted out... and it fucking killed him."

Duo reached for the three photos, picked them up and stared at them wretchedly. "Damned if you do and damned if you don't..." he whispered glumly; "That's a catch-22 for you right there."

He placed the photos inside the folder and reached for the Jameson, this time taking a sip straight out the bottle. Andrew watched him silently, looking at a loss.

"So have you figured out what they want to do with all this shit?" Duo asked between sips.

The squint smiled nervously. "Well uh, I do have a working theory, but... I don't think anyone is gonna buy it."

"Try me," Duo said, smirking; "I just might be drunk enough to fall for it." He scoffed, chuckling darkly and took another swig from the bottle.

Andrew laughed edgily. He regarded Duo thoughtfully for a moment before smiling and nodding his head in agreement.

"Alright," he said and leaned forward readily, placing both hands on the table. "So I've been going over that list," he pointed at the thick folder, "trying to figure out why they were interested in this particular technology. We already know from previous stolen tech that they're probably trying to recreate the ZERO System, or at least a variation of it. There's also evidence suggesting that they're trying to build a high speed engine, one with light-speed capabilities, at least for a brief period of time, I estimate no more than a few seconds of light-speed travel."

"Yeah? And where would that get them?" Duo asked, although hardly interested. He drank some more.

"Not far," Andrew admitted, "but I'm guessing that they're not looking to cover much distance in this journey... just time."

Duo laughed bitterly. "Time travel?" he muttered, shaking his head with a disdainful smile. "You're right, squint, that does sound crazy."

"Not necessarily," the younger man argued; "Think about it: does time really exist, or is it something that we use to bring everything down to our level of understanding? We think of time as a constant, but who really thought of "time"? Is time relative? If it is relative can it really be constant?"

"Uh..." Duo uttered dumbly and the young scientist smiled, as these nerds did when about to explain something in layman's terms.

"It's our own humanity that distorts our perceptions of time and space," he claimed. "It's easier to downsize everything into terms we can understand, but what do we really know about time? Five minutes to me may feel like ten minutes to you, and though it's only five minutes, in the literal sense of the way we see time, there are more things in the eye of the beholder than the conventional measurement of time. Imagine what we could do with time, how we could manipulate it, if we broke through our human boundaries and broadened our perception of it."

Duo frowned. "Like... like what the ZERO System does to ya?"

"Yes, precisely," the squint nodded eagerly. "Everything is connected in the space-time continuum. It's just that our puny minds can't connect the dots. Maybe there's a reason why we only use a small percentage of our brains. We'll probably cause too much damage to our minds if we even try to perceive all that's out there. Which is why, I think, they're trying to integrate the regeneration tech and the device that alters neuro-pathways into the cryo-chamber."

"To preserve the subject's brain," Duo deduced.

"Exactly!" The kid was getting all worked up over this shit, Duo noted in dismay. He reached for the Jameson and took another swig of whiskey.

"The ZERO System will _"fry"_ the subject's brain, while the re-gen and neuro tech will simultaneously heal it, rewiring neuro pathways and fixing the damaged ones. It's brilliant, right?"

Drunk as he was, it took Duo a moment to process what he had said. "So the subject could potentially survive a trip back in time?" he asked to make sure he got it right, scowling deeply at the absurdity of it all.

"Theoretically, yes," the squint confirmed. "You see, what I'm thinking is that they're trying to build a small vessel, not much bigger than the stasis pod itself, something with limited light-speed capability. They don't need it to go very far. Like I said, a few seconds will suffice. If they could find a way to travel at an extremely high speed towards a massive body with a high gravitational attraction, such as the sun, and allow the gravitational pull to accelerate the vessel to even faster speeds, the vessel would then break away from the stellar body, creating a whiplash effect which could transport the vessel through time. [[v]] Well... theoretically, of course. The conjecture that gravity is the only force capable of moving through time has never been proven and besides, most theoretical physicists maintain the belief that even if we do somehow manage to go back in time, the timeline will just find a way around our interferences and repair itself."

"So whatever happened will happen anyway?"

"Something like that. You'd most likely go back and end up causing the event you set out to prevent. You'll just become part of established events, otherwise, you risk creating a paradox that could very well destroy the universe."

Duo scoffed dismissively. "Well _shit_," he snarled and the young squint smiled nervously, like he could tell what Duo was thinking: he'd easily sacrifice the whole Goddamn universe if he could go back and rectify a single mistake... if he could get Heero back.

"But the way I see it," the young scientist continued, "past, present and future are one, interconnected. All three time periods are the same, coexisting with a unified causality, so that if you change something in one era, it affects both other eras automatically. That way time can fix itself."

"Avoiding a paradox?" Duo asked, setting the bottle down and eyeing the younger man carefully.

"In way," the young man shrugged. "If you're careful. It's called Retrocausality, when effect happens before cause. The future affects the present, and the present affects the past, get it?"

Duo frowned. "No."

The squint laughed. "Retrocausality basically infers that none of the supposed paradoxes that could ensue due to time travel can actually be formulated at a precise physical level: that is, any situation caused by someone traveling back in time will turn out to permit many consistent solutions." [[vi]]

"Okay, so you're saying one _could_ change the course of history," Duo concluded, scowling thoughtfully. His interest was piqued. He pushed the bottle away, trying to focus.

"Maybe," Andrew said; "All I know is that if _I_ was trying to build a time machine, I would definitely use these components and try to harness gravity in my favor. It should work... I think."

"So you're _not_ sure," Duo muttered with an irate sigh and reached for the Jameson again.

The young scientist smiled awkwardly. "Well, even if they _do_ manage to build a light-speed engine, performing this maneuver will require extremely precise calculations to be made, such as availability of fuel components, acceleration, and mass of the vessel through a time continuum... No pilot could pull it off."

"Isn't that where the ZERO System comes in again?" Duo played along as he drank whiskey out the bottle, glaring peevishly at the young man from behind the Jameson.

"Yes, but it isn't going to be easy, even for an advanced system like ZERO. You see, because time measurement is something that we basically made up, you can't really instruct the system to go back to a certain event. You can't just input October third AC 22 and expect it to jump back. You need to be more accurate, to give it specific coordinates in the space-time continuum. Star positions, for example. ZERO can figure out when and where according to the alignment of the stars, but that would only work if you're trying to go far back into the past, when there's a substantial shift in the position of the stars."

"What if they're trying to change something recent?" Duo asked tensely, suddenly interested again.

"Then they'd have to find a better anchor point. It's tricky, because no human mind can possibly take into account all the data necessary to bring the craft to a specific point in the space-time continuum. It would have to be very intuitive. In essence, you'd have to think of a certain event and the System will have do the rest for you, finding the right anchor points to create specific coordinates. There's plenty of room for error. They could aim to go back just far enough to change the outcome of the war, but they might end up way before it even broke out and have no choice but to sit and wait for the event they want to change. They could be old and gray by the time that happens. Be careful what you wish for, right?" Andrew concluded with a small chuckle.

"Yeah..." Duo mumbled pensively, staring at the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "...right."

**To be continued...**

* * *

><p>[i] See Mobile Report Gundam Wing Dual Story: G-UNIT<p>

[ii] Doing a quick "back of the envelope" calculation: if in Endless Waltz it took Quatre 24 hours to reach the sun, whereas today it would take roughly a year, I assume that a trip to the asteroid belt, which would take about 30 year with our current technology, would take about a month. Hey, I wrote about _time travel_ and booking an Easter vacation at the National Hotel on Block Island _two months_ in advance – anything is possible in this story!

[iii] Electroencephalography (EEG) is the recording of electrical activity along the scalp using electrodes.

Optical Head-Mounted Display (OHMD) is a wearable display that has the capability of reflecting projected images (like Google Glass).

[iv] Functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRI, is a technique for measuring brain activity.

[v] This is a spin of the Slingshot Effect, also known as the Light-Speed Breakaway Factor, a method of time travel used in Star Trek. Yeah, I'm a Trekkie as well as an anime fan. Guilty as charged.

[vi] Paraphrasing Kip Thorne, an American theoretical physicist.


	12. Act Two - Part 3

**Paradox**

**Act Two – Part 3**

Smoke rose from a small seed-shaped vessel lodged into a thick metal wall floating the black vacuum of space; the massive outer-casing of a rotating space colony. The craft's canopy was open. It was empty.

A few dozen feet away, a small hatch was left open, leading into a dark internal maintenance conduit used to provide access to various colony systems and the outer shell. The maze of service chutes ended with a hefty airlock door; its screen flashed a green light spelling the word: **PRESSURIZED**.

Inside, the colony was undergoing construction: steel framed skeleton buildings, cranes, construction machinery and other heavy-duty vehicles filled the stale colony air with pollution and noise. A large military base at the center of the colony was the only complete and fully operational structure – the colony's command center. Massive Leo suits guarded the facility. There was a large hole in one of the perimeter buildings and evidence of a recent fire. Three broken Leos were laid on the ground next to it, covered in soot. Alliance soldiers were still cleaning up the mess. It looked like the base has taken a serious hit.

Dressed in a skin-tight black flight suit, torn and tattered from a harsh fight, Duo roamed the empty streets of the colony, looking around in confusion. He was pretty banged up: his face was streaked with dirt and blood and there was a slight limp in his stride. His long braid was falling apart. He walked stiffly, each step more painful than the previous one, wandering around while trying to figure out where the Hell he had ended up.

The MO-V mission was a complete fiasco. Romefeller knew they were coming. Two agents were dead by the time they broke into the secret base at the heart of the densely populated colony. Wufei ordered them to push through despite the heavy fire. They had to destroy the base no matter what. It was just Wufei and him by the time they made it to the hangar.

They found the Teardrop vessel. It was being readied for launch. Wufei ordered him to destroy it while he provided cover. Duo intended on doing that, he really did. He climbed in with explosive chargers, ready to set them up. Sitting inside the small pod, he paused to look down at the hangar and saw that Wufei was taking heavy fire. He watched wide eyed as the former Gundam pilot was shot down, sprayed by bullets as he dropped dead to the floor.

It was up to him now. The mission was a one-way ticket to Hell.

Bullets were fired at the vessel, ricocheting loudly off the metallic hull. Duo ducked, lying inside the pod. He activated the main computer to shut the canopy, trying to buy some time before he could finish setting up the charges. The vessel powered up and the computer interface display lit up brightly. He recognized the blinding yellow glow. It was ZERO trying to tap into his mind.

He didn't think. It was pure instinct. He wanted to get out of there, so ZERO helped him. The vessel powered up and lifted off, speeding loudly out of the hangar and shooting into space straight through the colony wall, leaving a trial of chaos in its wake. Vacuum sucked debris out of the colony as the small teardrop-shaped craft disappeared into the blackness of space. It was heading towards the sun at a staggering speed.

Lying inside the pod, Duo started thinking maybe Andrew was right. Maybe his wish to save Heero could actually be granted. It was worth a shot. What did he have to lose? He was a dead man either way. If there was a slight chance he could go back and save Heero – prevent him from approaching the vile device Dr. J had used to rid him of emotion – then he had to take the risk. Heero died because of J. He died because he wanted to undo what that mad old man did to him; he wanted to be able to love more freely – and he died for it. Duo realized he could now stop that from ever happening.

Once he made up his mind, ZERO did the rest. The stasis pod filled with freezing water and Duo sank into a deep slumber as the small vessel accelerated towards the sun. He woke up gasping and found that the craft was lodged inside the casing outer shell of some colony.

It didn't work. If it had, he should have found himself back in New York City, in front of the building where Heero died. Instead he had to wriggle inside the small pod as he put on a helmet, step out of the craft and find a way into the colony. He wandered aimlessly, trying to figure out where the Teardrop has brought him.

The colony streets were empty, most of its inhabitants were working on construction, but there were soldiers patrolling the streets. They were looking for someone. He avoided the patrols, hiding in the shadows of a dark alley as he studied the soldiers closely, frowning. They were Alliance, but the UESA hasn't existed in over a decade!

He did his best to stick to the back alleys, making his way through the colony to have a closer look. He saw the military base, guarded by outdated Leo suits and showing recent signs of damage. A rebels attack? On an _Alliance_ base? What the Hell was going on? Where was he? Or more importantly – when?

He needed information. He had a bad feeling about this. ZERO botched up the calculations – big time.

Making his way back towards the outskirts of the colony, where heavy construction was still underway, he stole a plain brown jumpsuit from one of the workers, assuming a disguise so he could blend in more easily. He also stole the guy's keycard, hoping it would get him into the crew dorms where he could figure out what was going on in peace.

He headed towards a large tenement building, the only fully constructed building aside from the base, which meant it served as the construction crew's quarters. He was halfway there when suddenly he spotted a familiar mop of scruffy brown hair in the distance. He stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at the distant figure who had no place on this colony: it was a little boy with wild unruly chocolate-brown hair, walking alone down an empty street.

Duo's heart jumped to this throat. _No way_, he thought. _Fuck!_

He ran towards the boy, his heart racing anxiously.

The little boy stopped and turned to face a dark alley.

Duo ran faster, afraid to lose him.

This can't be happening!

He got there two seconds later and saw that the little boy was talking to someone, an old man sitting in the shadowy alley – Doctor J!

"Hey!" he called out, panicked, and grabbed the boy by his shoulder, whirling him around quickly. The little boy tensed and jerked his head up to look at him, startled. Duo's heart nearly stopped when he was faced with a pair of fierce Prussian blue eyes. Jesus Christ. He was looking at a child Heero!

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!_ His mind reeled while he struggled to remain calm. ZERO didn't get it wrong. It brought him right where he asked to be – it brought him back just in time to save Heero from Doctor J.

_Shit._ Be careful what you wish for indeed.

He had to be quick on his feet; he had to make do with what he got, and fast, before Heero repeats the same mistake twice!

"There you are!" he exclaimed in fake-relief; "I've been looking all over for ya!"

The little boy gaped at him, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to speak, something nasty by the look in his eyes, but Duo smiled at him cunningly, trying to show that he was on his side, and bent over the boy while still holding his slim shoulder.

"What did I tell you about accepting candy from strangers?" he reprimanded and the boy's small face hardened into an angry glare. He was about to open his mouth again, but then the old man in the alley turned to Duo, scrutinizing him from behind his freaky goggles.

"Is he with you?" Dr. J asked gruffly and Duo couldn't help but pull the little boy closer protectively.

"Yeah, he's with me," he growled the words out dangerously, "so back off ya _old fart_. You ain't getting your dirty claws on him this time."

The little boy gasped, alarmed. He inched closer to Duo, looking at the old man's metal-clawed hand with dread. Duo looked down at his small head, a strange feeling burning in his chest. He was so little. All he wanted was to wrap his arms tightly around the scrawny little boy, scoop him up and carry him to safety. Instead, he settled on nudging the boy towards him as he turned to leave.

"C'mon, Heero, let's get outta here," he said and pulled the child gently with him as he stepped away from the alley. The boy hesitated, resisting the pull while staring numbly at Duo's face. He seemed confused and Duo realized that the child has never heard the name "Heero" in his life.

In the alley, Doctor J stood up slowly; he seemed suspicious. It was pretty obvious that the child has never laid eyes on Duo before.

Duo studied the boy's face wretchedly, hoping he would trust him enough to walk away. His small features were pale and filthy, his eyes hungry. Duo knew that look well; the boy has been living on the streets, but not for very long. Overall he seemed healthy, well-fed; he was also dressed in good clothes. God, but he was so little; he couldn't be more than seven or eight. Jesus. Shit. What the Hell was he going to do with a _child_?

The small boy studied him quietly; he appeared to be trying to decide whether or not he should trust him. Duo did his best not to get all teary-eyed and smiled instead.

"Trust me, kiddo, you're better off with me," he whispered and the small boy frowned warily. He wasn't buying it.

"How about a hot meal and a warm bed?" Duo suggested softly; "sounds good?"

The boy didn't answer. He just bowed his head down meekly and stared at his dirty shoes as he followed Duo towards the large tenement building up ahead.

* * *

><p>They spent the night in one of the empty crew quarters. The noisy construction continued all through the night. Duo sat by a small desk next to the bed, watching the little boy he had named Heero sleep soundly under warm covers. The boy said he had nothing else to go by when he humbly accepted his new name. Duo always knew that the alias "Heero Yuy" was given to Heero as a codename for Operation Meteor. He assumed that Heero kept the name because he had nothing else to go by, but it still hurt to confirm this theory.<p>

There was nothing sadder than a nameless child. No one cared for him enough to even give him a name. Even objects had names, but this child didn't. Thinking about it brought tears to Duo's eyes. He knew what it felt like to be so unloved no one even gave you a name, but unlike Heero, he just said _'fuck it'_ at some point and named himself, figuring that if no one else gave a shit he would just do it himself. This boy, however, didn't seem to think he mattered enough to even name himself. It broke Duo's heart. He wept sorrowfully, watching the sleeping child while silent tears glided down his cheeks.

He sat hours into the night and stared at the little boy, feeling utterly miserable as he came to terms with the irrefutable fact that Heero was now lost to him, for good. There was no going back to fix things anymore... he had messed that up. He will never meet Heero in this timeline, never fall in love... not unless Heero becomes a Gundam pilot, and that was absolutely out of the question. He could never knowingly set this boy on a path that would cause him so much agony, which meant that Heero – _his_ Heero, the man he loved – was gone forever, because this boy, lying on the bed in front of him, will never grow up to be that man. Heero was gone, but... but there he was, right in front of him... living and breathing as a boy, twenty years younger than him!

Fuck. What the fuck was he doing? Who was he to change history? What was he even thinking – going back in time! What gave him the right to make such a selfish decision and sacrifice everything for Heero's sake? Heero would never want that, but Duo didn't mean for this to happen! It should have been harmless enough. He should have just gone back six months and prevent Heero's death, but now... shit. The moral implications were staggering. He could barely wrap his head around it all.

To save Heero would mean to take him off the path he was destined to walk and risk fucking everything else in the process. Who was he to make this choice? He was just a man – petty, selfish and flawed – not God. And as a mere mortal, of course he will choose Heero; no doubt about it. Fuck the world. He will save Heero. Somehow... But— _shit_. It was Heero or the world. There simply wouldn't be a world without him... and now? What now? Can history do without Heero? Can time fix itself like that squint Andrew said? Will it find a way around something _this_ big?

Taking Heero out of the picture was pretty much dooming everyone eight years down the road, wasn't it? Without Heero, so many things won't play out the same way they did that first time around. _Fuck_. Without Heero, he will be executed in an OZ prison on C-102 seven years from now. Fuck! There will be no one to rescue him this time around... and that was just his side of things. What about the bigger picture?

What about Relena? Meeting Heero was what set her on a path to change the fucking world, bringing hope and aspiration for peace in times of war and desperation. People wanted peace because she became a symbol of it... what if that never happens now? Will the war just carry on forever?

And Zechs... That fucking _prick_. What about him? Losing to Heero on the battlefield was what drove the highly-decorated OZ commander to suddenly perceive himself as weak. And when he had witnessed Heero's stupid self-detonating stunt in Siberia, the prick realized that he lacked the absolute resolve to lay one's life on the line for a greater purpose. He was so impressed with Heero's dedication to his mission to keep the colonies safe that he began to change. His obsession over Heero and the internal conflict it ensued led him into getting kicked out of OZ and eventually being in charge of the White Fang militia, changing sides.

What if Zechs never develops this obsession? What if never meeting Heero meant that he remains with OZ and never takes command of the Colony Rebel forces as the leader of White Fang? What if he never declares war on the Earth using the battleship Libra, targeting the planet to stop humanity from fighting each other and to have Relena lead the people in a new age of peace? What if he doesn't become a mutual enemy of both Earth and the Colonies – what then? How will things play out without Zechs' obsession to outdo Heero in just about everything?

Heero inspired just about every person he had ever met. He changed people for the better, driving them to make the world a better place. Heero saved the world vicariously through so many people and in so many ways... too many to keep count of, really. That was just the kind of person he was, even if he could never see it for himself. Heero thought himself a messenger of vengeance, of blood and loss, while in truth he was an angel of mercy, of hope. The world will not be the same without him. This wasn't simply about losing the love of his life anymore. This was bigger... much bigger. This was about the world losing its savior.

Without Heero, everything will change. What if the Colonies eventually lose? Will the oppression just carry on forever? And what if Earth loses? What if the Colonies destroy it? What if both sides destroy each other? What if because Heero will never touch the lives of people like Relena or Zechs, the rest of the world will never realize how pointless the fighting has become? What if it never stops?

But what if it does? What if time _could_ fix itself? What if history could do without Heero? Maybe... maybe Dr. J will just find another helpless kid and make a Perfect Soldier out of him and then everything will be as it should. Duo really wanted to believe that, but deep down he had the sick feeling that no person could ever replace Heero. On the battlefield, maybe, but not as a person. Heero was one of a kind, unique... precious. Quatre once called him the "Heart of Space", because despite the callous exterior, Heero possessed an uncanny capacity for empathy towards fellow men. His heart was too kind and too pure; irreplaceable. That was why he moved people in ways they could hardly understand. So why this precious soul should be condemned to wither away on the battlefield? Fuck the world. Fuck everyone! Like Heero had said, the future will just have to make do without him.

So yeah, damn it all to Hell. Duo made up his mind. Fuck history. This time around, Heero won't get the fucking short end of the stick. Everyone else will, but not this child, not this time. Fuck morality, ethics and all that bullshit. This time – it was all about Heero and him.

Which brought on his next dilemma: If he was truly going to mess with history, should he take a wild gamble and risk of making matters worse by interfering further? Should he take his selfishness to the limit and go save himself as well?

He found out earlier that he had arrived on June 13th AC 188. He had missed the Maxwell Church Massacre by roughly three months. The biggest tragedy of his life could not be prevented, but he could still seek his young-self and do some serious damage control. He could salvage both Heero's and his own childhood. For a moment, Duo even entertained the idea of raising both children as adopted brothers. Then again, that would be _too_ picture-perfect; it felt wrong. It almost made him sick.

They were destined to be lovers, not brothers. He just couldn't do it, maybe because then there will never be a chance of them meeting again. It would mean giving up all hope of ever loving Heero again, even vicariously through his present-day-self. What if present-day-Duo and Heero were destined to meet somehow-somewhere in time? There would be a kind of poetic justice to his unfathomable predicament if they were to meet anyway. This silly hope that he might someday meet Heero was the only comfort Duo could find at the moment as he decided to forsake his present-day-self to his fate.

Someone had to pay the price for this accidental but almost certainly fatal interference with the timeline. It was only fitting that he should be the one to offer retribution. It seemed fair, despite the injustice of it all. His young-self shouldn't be held accountable for the sins he hasn't committed yet, and never will commit because the timeline was compromised... Shit. It was a fucking paradox and the only clear solution he could see was that the show must go on. History needed him to play his role as he had done before, now more than ever. His present-day-self will have to bear this cross, paying for the mistakes of his future-self. He couldn't save both Heero and himself.

Duo closed his eyes sadly, feeling a deep icy chill in his heart. He was so sorry, but it was either Heero or nothing. As much as it wounded him, he chose Heero over his young-self. It felt awful and it hurt, but he knew that everything came with a price. He will sacrifice both history and himself for Heero's sake. This time, the world will just have to find a way to better itself for Heero and not the other way around.

* * *

><p>The small boy woke up in the early morning hours. Duo hasn't slept a wink. He gave the boy some breakfast, which he ate quietly, keeping his eyes downcast as he stared at his plate.<p>

"What were you doing alone on the streets?" Duo asked carefully as he sat next to him, watching the boy eat. "Are you lost?"

The boy thought about it for a moment. He nodded.

Something inside him shuddered. He remembered Heero once saying that he has always felt lost.

"What are you doing on this colony?" he continued asking; "Does your dad work here?"

The child shook his head 'no'.

"Who takes care of you?"

"He's dead." Those words, spoken in a small boyish voice, were the first words the child spoke to him. Suddenly, he realized just how _young_ this boy really was. Shit. Duo felt himself falter. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his cool.

"Is that his blood on your clothes?" he asked quietly, gesturing at the boy's dirty shirt. He hadn't noticed the blood yesterday, but when he took the boy's small jacket off last night before tucking him in bed, he saw that his clothes were soaked with blood.

"Did you have anything to do with what happened at the base?" Duo wondered and the boy looked away uneasily.

"You did, didn't you?" He marveled. He never knew Heero started off _this_ early. He never dared ask his lover about his life before they met, about his time with Dr. J or what happened before that. The subject was a taboo and the mere mention of it made Heero push him away and close up all over again. He had no idea.

"Is that how he died?" he asked the boy carefully and watched Heero's blue eyes tear up.

"He said I haffta go to school..." the boy mumbled shakily. His lips trembled as struggled to keep the tears at bay. "But there aren't any!" he whined, distressed; "I tried to do like he said, but I... I couldn't find any!" He moaned anxiously, clearly afraid; like he was going to be punished for failing to do as he was asked. Duo's heart shattered at his despaired cry.

"There are no schools on this colony," he explained softly, leaning down towards the upset little boy. "There will be, many years from now, once it's complete."

And that won't happen for a long time. Duo knew that the UESA will soon abandon the colony because of the rebels' attack. Its construction won't be finished before AC 197, when Quatre will take it onto himself to complete the colony after Heero, Trowa and himself stop Dekim Barton from dropping the colony onto the Earth in an attempt to recommence Operation Meteor— but that won't happen now... shit.

Duo made a mental note to write all of this stuff down. He had to get everything on paper before he forgets, every last detail. It was no longer ancient history, but valuable intelligence. This information is going to be crucial if he was to make sure that the war ends the same way it did the last time.

He focused on the little boy again and his eyes watered when he noted the child's obvious distress.

"But... but Odin said..." the boy mumbled between sniffles, "He didn't say anything else. He didn't tell me what to do if I didn't find any!"

Duo smiled sadly and placed a warm hand on the boy's small shoulder. "I'll find you a good school," he promised, "I'm going to take care of you from now on, okay?"

The boy nodded his head, wiping his tears with the back of his little hands. "Okay," he murmured, sniveling.

"Okay, good," Duo established and stood up. The boy did the same. He stood tensely, watching Duo attentively as though awaiting orders. Duo's heart broke even more.

"I'll find a way to get us off this colony," he said and the boy nodded in acknowledgment. He was still waiting to be told what to do. Duo tried to think of something and once he came up with it, he smiled.

"Have you ever seen Earth, Heero?" he asked.

The little boy shook his head 'no', his messy bangs swinging before his eyes. Duo made another mental note – give the boy a haircut.

"Alright," he said with a smile; "so how about I figure out how to get us there, while you draw me a picture of what you think it might look like?"

The child frowned, puzzled by the odd request. "Draw a picture?"

"Yeah," Duo repeated and went to fetch a small pad of paper and a blue ball pen resting on the small desk by the bed. He gave Heero the pen and the boy held it, staring at it in confusion.

"But I don't know what it looks like," he mumbled nervously, clearly afraid to fail the task he had been given.

"I know," Duo said with a gentle smile, "that's why I said you should draw whatever you _think _it would be like."

"Blue?" the boy wondered, staring uneasily at the blue ball pen.

Duo laughed. "Yeah, that's a start," he said and walked to the door. "I'll be back real soon, okay? Wait here. Don't open the door for anyone," he ordered (knowing the boy will follow his command) and then left, locking the door behind him.

When he came back, a plan to get off the colony already in motion, Heero showed him his picture, holding it up apprehensively. It was a drawing of an empty blue circle. Duo stared at it, trying not to look saddened as he realized that he had a long road ahead of him...

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>

**Author's Note:** I hate to leave you hanging but I'm going abroad on a family vacation (God help me...) so I won't be able to post until after Easter.

Happy Easter/Passover to those who celebrate!

Elle


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